


The Polaris Project

by Piston24



Category: Splatoon
Genre: Human, Original Character(s), inklings - Freeform, octolings - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-10
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:49:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 36,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24102394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Piston24/pseuds/Piston24
Summary: Under the waves, unbeknownst to the world, lays the rubble of a long-dead species. Almost everything they were, all they knew, lost to the rising water and time. But while the world that had developed in their absence grew, it remained ignorant to them at large. Despite that, and time's best attempts, it was unable to erase everything and everyone. One has awoken from a twelve Millenium sleep, ignorant to what has transpired in their absence. As two worlds, one dead, and one living clash together, there is only one certainty; Change is on the horizon. But the question is, who will change who? As for the awoken one, he may just blend in for now.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 31





	1. Chapter 1

…

...

...click.

The first sound to emanate in the small, claustrophobic room was a quiet beep. A harsh staccato in the silent space. The disturbance was followed by another beep, then another. 

As the room swelled with sound, oxygen streamed in from the vents, neutralizing the previous mixture of gases. Above, fluorescent bulbs flashed on, flickering uncertainly before settling on a steady, yet dull glow. 

Over the soft hum of the lights, quiet ticks and hisses made themselves known. They reverberated from a strange, mechanical coffin bolted into the back wall. Various wires and tubes were tangled amongst its silvery surface, dipping and weaving between it and several canisters laid next to it.

A thin, rising shriek slowly drowned out the room’s cacophony as light steam rose from the crevices of the coffin. As the piercing gale reached a crescendo, the top swung open.

Clang! 

The coffin’s insides were obscured by a thick cyan mist. It rose up over the sides, spilling onto the floor in small curls. As it wove its way over the ground, the various quips and quivers of machinery faded into nothing, leaving the mist in silence. 

The tranquil scene broke when a plastic covered arm shot out of the mist. Many thin filaments were attached to the appendage, which tore off from the violent movement. The small tears in the material leaked a mixture of chemicals and sparks. The arm, after its triumphant action, fell back into the casket with an audible thud. A muffled groan came from within, alongside the sounds of something shifting.

A body slowly began to rise out of the coffin, the head and torso piercing the fog. Like the arm, they were covered with the same whitish plastic, including many more attached filaments. Most tore off, causing a small shower of sparks and a contribution to the ever growing hiss of escaping gases. With another grunt, the person slowly flexed their right leg, still concealed by the mist. They cringed slightly at how stiff the joint felt. 

Gingerly, they swung its legs onto the lip of the coffin and carefully shifted their weight onto the edge. They quietly inched its legs forward, slowly but surely easing its feet onto the floor. Unfortunately, shifting their full weight onto their feet caused the being to stumble forward and crash onto the floor. 

Overhead, a quiet whir made itself known as the auxiliary ventilation came to life. The remaining mist slowly filtered away, completing the vent cycle. Above the sarcophagus, a red industrial light blinked rapidly before shifting to a soft green. The changing light heralded a quick relay of beeps in response.

The figure groaned inwardly at the incessant chirps, but got to their feet, wincing in pain. Shaking their head slightly, they brought their hands to the hard mask covering their face. It fumbled to grip the mask, and found two indentations on the sides. Hands shaking erratically, they brought the hands up to the indentations and applied as much pressure as it could. 

The mask came off with a “pop!”, and the figure pulled the rest of the suit hood back. the person took a deep gasp of air, one that had been long overdue. A hand through his hair before burying his face in his hands, collapsing into a crouch. He took another breath, and then another. Even if the air carried a heavy and sour scent, it smelt of heaven. 

He sat in the position for what felt like hours , breathing in and out. Slowly, but surely, the primal instincts of his mind relented, giving control back to him. He could still feel the deadening effects of the medicines that had been pumped into him, but they too were slowly fading. With every breath, and beat of his heart, his body threw off the artificial weariness.

For how long he sat there, he wasn’t sure. His focus was solely focused on his breathing. 

In… out…. In… out.

It couldn’t last forever. He stood up on his feet, and in one fluid motion, stripped the rest of the suit off of him. A grimace passed his face as he felt the needles embedded in the suit’s insides rip out of his skin, leaving a dull irritation behind. Without the suit, he was wearing little else.

After giving a moment for the ache to pass, he carefully made his way to a small mirror positioned on the wall opposite of the mechanical coffin. A hastily scribbled checklist was taped up next to it, none the worse for wear. The rest of the steel wall was barren, save for a hook on which he hung the suit.

He looked over the reflection that greeted him. His hair had thinned out significantly, and his face had been reduced to an odd myriad of ashen skin with the occasional touch of blue. He brought a hand up to his cheek and gave it an experimental pinch, then frowned to himself. No pain. The rest of his body was looked over with a critical eye.

The effects of stasis on humans had varied significantly, and even with every precaution and safety taken, there were still risks involved. While he would have to perform a myriad of tests later to determine which had affected him, a cursory inspection would have to make do for the moment.

Besides the same discoloration on the rest of his body, he had clearly lost body mass. He had been fairly fit before entering stasis, but now, his ribs were could be faintly seen , and he had obviously lost some of his muscle tone. 

One of the more unsavory side-effects was the loss of body mass, and he had been no exception to the rule. It seems he got off lucky, however, especially considering he was under for at least a year. There was no doubt that not everyone would be as lucky.

It definitely could have been worse.

Looking over to the pinned medical list, he silently read it over to himself. Body mass, within acceptable limits. Blue tinted sections of skin were normal… He felt (mostly) mentally alert and well, though there was a warning to perform several mental tests with another person. He’d have to do that when he met up with the others; they could shake off their stupor together.

...Wait.

One item on the list; Nerve damage. From what he understood about cryo-stasis, whatever gases they used to preserve the body was hard on the nerves, and prolonged contact could cause degradation. Even with the protective covering he had been wearing, they hadn’t found a way to completely eliminate the issue. 

Still, if he got off with just a bit of body emaciation, that was a win in his books. Between nerve damage and body emaciation, the latter was the lesser of two evils, so to speak. One was solved with food and exercise, the other with invasive and expensive surgery at the cellular level. 

He wasn’t made out of money!

Unfortunately for him, his fine motor skills had not yet returned to him. There was nothing he could save waiting for them to return; on a positive note, The smatterings of blue tint on his flesh were quickly fading into a brilliant red, and even his ashen skin was regaining color.

Because he was awake, there probably wasn’t any catastrophic damage to his vital organs or brain. As for minor damage, it would take time to see if he did dodge those. There wasn’t much of a point to worry about it right now, however. If he did suddenly suffer an organ failure or, Lord forbid, a seizure, there wouldn’t be much he could do about it. 

Just… best not to think about it. 

In the meantime, he would have to be a bit more careful until he knew for sure, especially because of the remnants of haze that kept his mind shrouded in a light fog.

Seeing that he was in relatively good health, he looked away from the mirror back to his previous tomb. Specifically, a hollow space underneath the coffin itself. 

He gingerly bent down to his knees to get a better view of the coffin’s underside. Underneath was a small, white locker, nestled against the back wall, amongst a few small boxes. A small light on the locker, still a steady green, brought a grin to his face. 

Thank the Good Lord.

Despite knowing it would be there, he had had his worries. A lot could happen in a year or three, the least being his small sanctuary stripped for parts. The implications of anything happening were… unpleasant, to say the least. But his room and locker were untouched. A small miracle.

Still though, if something had happened…

He shook his head. Happy thoughts, happy thoughts… 

The locker was intact: that was what happened, no need to dwell on What-ifs. He slowly dragged the silver locker out from under the pod. 

Despite being a small locker, it was quite heavy. While the production of this particular stasis technology had been shrouded in secrecy, fostered by the team assigned to working on it, even he knew that minituarizing the machinery any further was near impossible. Freezing a small three dimensional space to withstand the test of time was already quite the engineering feat, but they weren’t miracle workers. For the most part.

Having set the locker on the ground in front of him, he stared dumbly at the locked cover. There was a twelve digit keypad in the center, zero through nine, plus a pound and period symbols. A row of top positioned LEDs on the case gave him pause, breaking his train of thought. 

...What was his passcode again? 

He grimaced a little. 

Two Four Two Six? 

...No. 

One Seven Six Nine? 

…No. 

One Nine Eight Seven? 

...Definitely not… 

...Well, it’s worth a shot. 

One…  
Two…  
Three…  
Four…

His eyebrows shot up as he heard a solitary click come from the locker, followed by the familiar hiss of escaping gases. He couldn’t help but bring a hand to his forehead. What was he thinking? 

Though in this case, his own stupidity saved him the trouble of having to have the engineers pry this overcomplicated piece of tech open. Perhaps he anticipated he would forget, so he made the passcode simple? He couldn’t remember.

Now open, the box displayed its contents to the world. They were mostly his personal belongings, save for a piece of bread on top of them. A fresh slice, too. It was their so-called “redneck” solution to the issue of trying to determine if a stasis module was functioning normally. If the field held correctly, the bread would be fresh, not stale. And fresh this slice was.

Before being put under, they had stored some of their most valuable possessions in these lock-boxes; they were to be in cryo-sleep for at least a year, and having whatever possessions they had left kept safe was a great boon to their minds. And if they were to die… the rooms were already pseudo-tombs as it were. Being buried with their possessions was the least that could be done.

The contents didn’t amount to much; the folded up clothing he had worn before his time in the freezer, a small, framed picture of him and a few colleagues, laptop, phone, flashlight, several solid state drives, and a sheath of documents and letters. A treasure trove of sentimentality, but one that was largely useless save for the sheer amount of information on the documents and electronics. For now though, they could remain in the locker. 

Except for his clothes. He was not about to meet up with the others while wearing practically nothing.

It was simple enough to slip his clothes over the undersuit; tight garments did have their advantages, and he didn’t see any reason to remove it yet. Black socks, simple black dress shoes, pair of dark pants, light blue button-up shirt, grey tie (he needed to look at least somewhat professional, after all), all put under a dirty white lab coat. Not to imply the rest of his ensemble was clean. Far from it. Even then, it was still much more presentable than going naked. Hopefully his colleagues had the same idea. 

Otherwise… it would be quite awkward.

~~~

While he didn’t have an exact idea of what would greet him beyond his crypt, there were a few guesses he did hold. Perhaps it would be bustling with the activity of the other personnel breaking the stupor of their cryo-stasis. Or maybe he would be late to the party, so to speak; everyone sitting in the Atrium, already warming up their cup of victory coffee as celebration for finally being rescued. 

Hope, warmth, actual time to have a proper rest as opposed to the chaotic days before their sleep. He could almost taste the ambrosial beverage, feel the sun on his face… 

…

The door slid to the side with a silent hiss.

As it turned out, the outside was not the unicorns and rainbows he thought it to be. 

Quite the opposite, in fact.

The area the cryo-crypts were located in originally started their life as regular storage rooms. Their doors lined the solitary, concrete hall on both sides. Unlike a more homely hallway, however, the interior was entirely devoted to utility rather than comfort; concrete primarily made the hallway up, steel beams in between the doors to act as reinforcements. The doors themselves were composed of a metallic alloy, and several fluorescent lights lined the ceiling. 

He had cracked open his door slightly, sliding it horizontally into the wall. The first thing he noted was the lack of light. The use of a flashlight retrieved from his locker rectified that, but he shouldn’t even have needed to use one in the first place. As far as he could tell, the structure's interior was intact; pristine, in fact. Even the fluorescent lights were fine and should have flooded the space with artificial light, but weren’t. 

Something was wrong. Very wrong.

As he stepped out cautiously into the hallway, he flicked the flashlight on, bathing the hallway in its narrow, dull light. A flame of fear flickered in his stomach as he took his first steps into the hall.

This wasn’t right, this wasn’t right! 

He felt almost surreal, lightheaded, walking through the seemingly endless corridor. In reality, it was actually quite short. The bay held seventy-four identical rooms, to be precise, with fifty-seven each holding a cryo-tomb, the rest used for storage. That fact did not help him in the slightest; rather, it only accentuated his paranoia. 

Was he truly the only one here?

“Hello?” He called, almost whispering his words. It came out heavily distorted, raspy; partly because of his body not yet having fully awakened, and partly because his throat had clogged with phlegm. 

In the silence, it rang out true, but went unanswered. His own ears were filled with the deafening noise of absolute nothing, his words already long gone. The absence of sound left his ears to fill in the void. A task they performed earnestly, filling his head with white, imaginary noises at the edge of his subconscious.

Had he truly awakened before the others? Or rather, did he wake up late? Were the rest already nothing but bones and dust, with him left to sweep up the mess? But then why would they leave him asleep… 

No. 

They had to still be asleep, had to be. They had to be. They. Had. To. Be. If they weren’t… he wasn’t sure what he would do.

A quick shift to his left brought him face to face with one of the insurmountable doors lining the hallway. His flashlight revealed a neon orange “forty-three” hastily written in spray paint on the door. They weren’t using a proper “system” for their preservation, in truth. Rather, the whole operation had been slapped together over the course of two weeks. 

Two horrible, awful weeks where the literal weight of the ocean bore down upon them. A week where they spent every single, waking moment setting up this bay so they could survive. Every resource they had, jury-rigged to create this scheme. Two weeks where they had to cope with the loss of their world. Two week where the fragile flame of hope nearly was extinguished. And yet here they were; or rather, here he was, standing in the remnants of their efforts.

The uncertainty of the situation was what ate away at him. He was awake; he wasn’t sure if the others were awake. If there was a silver lining, nothing was damaged; That had to be a good sign. And he made it out and was still breathing. The infrastructure was intact, and if that was so, he could get to the bottom of this. Any lick of hope was better than none. It was vague and pointless, but enough to reignite his own that everything would be ok. 

Back to the door.

It was composed of a thin metal-alloy sheet, several more strips hastily welded onto the surface. They formed a mish-mash of cross sections and scorch marks. Aside from the number, there wasn’t much else that distinguished it from the others; that was why they had broken out the spray paint. Even in the middle of the apocalypse, keeping a system was still something they valued. And of course, keeping track of who occupied which crypt. 

Getting the door open was another kettle of fish entirely. While the rooms, and in effect, this whole section had been converted in a rapid manner, they had incorporated the already present locking systems into their setup. And because this section had originally stored some of their more… important and rare materials, alongside sensitive information and prototypes, and now humans, the security was quite formidable. 

The doors were secured with the use of electromagnets and a physical locking system. Both were currently engaged, so even if he could find a crowbar or something to pry open the door, any attempts would fail miserably. They could be disabled with an eight digit passcode punched into a discreet keypad, or a proper security card, but he had neither. Perhaps he could find the code written down somewhere, but that in itself was unlikely. If the magnets failed, he could easily force the door open, but that was unlikely.

Alternatively, he could reject the odds and instead cut off all the power to the facility, but that had its own myriad of problems. One; he couldn’t do it, even if his life depended on it. There were more redundancy systems installed than he could count, and it wasn’t like he had proper authorization to shut down their geothermal generator (and backup generators) remotely, much less actually access the constructs physically. 

And two; shutting down the power and their redundancies would also kill anyone still in cryo-sleep. The cryopods would forcibly wake their occupants in the event of a total power failure, and the shock from such an action would be lethal. And if they somehow survived, oxygen deprivation would kill them then, as the facility was reliant on C02 recycling for their air, doubly so since the flood had cut off every surface vent. 

There was nothing he could do. 

He turned back down the solitary hall, fist clenched at his side, other hand keeping the light steady. It shone down the long hall, its weak illumination fending off the dark. The scene was still extraordinarily eerie, but the edge had been taken off somewhat. It was with hope, not trepidation, that he continued to the end, passing between the numbered doors.

Beyond the corridor was an open space, several magnitudes larger than the cramped room he had emerged from. Its walls were a combination of smooth concrete and steel beams, several more of the beams supporting the ceiling; a workshop, specifically. Their company name, “Polaris”, was represented on the northern wall, painted in large, utilitarian characters. 

The bay was one of the several passageways connected to the shop, which had been used as their main hub of activity during their two weeks of nonstop construction. In part, the storage rooms had been converted because of their close proximity to the workshop itself; it was easier to centralize their activities in this section, as opposed to spreading everything out over the entire underground facility. 

That, and some sections had collapsed outright.

Like the hallway behind him, the whole space was pristine in regards to structural stability, but the haphazard scattering of tools, benches, machinery, and spare bits and ends of metal broke the spotless monotony. Walking amongst the clutter was… unsettling. The strange geometry of the shadows cast by his flashlight certainly didn’t help. 

It was still deathly silent, and his mind took that opportunity to play tricks on him. It was becoming increasingly difficult to convince himself that nothing would jump out at him. Flashes of movement at the edges of his sight sent his light there in a heartbeat, mind thrown into a tizzy. A moment would pass; he would continue on his way, then the cycle would repeat itself.

His experiences here didn’t help; this place had been a den of near insanity, the cacophony of tools nonstop churning out cryopods from whatever metal was available, while the others carted them off to be installed. Others ran to and fro, rearranging wires and systems into the amalgamation that was now their cryo-wing. The memories were ones he would prefer not to relive, though now, it was as if he was walking through the skeleton of a once great beast. 

What was surprising, however, was the much different mess left behind. By the time they had finished their preparations, the area laid near bare; tools neatly put back in place, the few remaining unused scraps pushed off to the side, most of the nonessential projects worked on in this space disassembled or put into the unused cryo rooms. 

But now it had been reduced to this mess. And not just clutter; several of their machines had been reassembled, even a few that had been cannibalized for parts during the cryopod construction. 

Who had been down here to make this all? Their entire team had gone under, all fifty-seven of them; most had been killed when the flood initially wiped out their above ground structures, and when portions of the Underground collapsed. He had been one of the lucky ones to have been underground during the time, and not in a doomed section. 

Though as time had gone on, the opinion of their luck shifted to the dead being the truly lucky ones, especially as their food supplies dwindled. That’s what it had come down to in the first place; food. The shortage had been why they started their mad plot of cryo-preservation to begin with. Their stores would have run out months before the waters receded, or before they were rescued.

But someone had obviously been down here. 

Scratch that, a lot of someones. 

This mess couldn’t have been caused by a single person; a team had to have been working on something here, and judging by the remains of their work, plenty of time had been spent doing so. But they were gone now, seemingly without a trace. 

What was going on here?

There was one last place where the rest could be congregated; the Atrium. It was the only other major space in the sector, and was their designated “free time zone” even before the flood. Not to mention it wasn’t an uncomfortable area to rest at; they had a few comfy chairs, wooden tables, a couch, actual carpet, plastered walls, and a small potted tree. They even had a coffee maker and fridge. 

In truth, it was a glorified break room, but it was their break room; the room where many laughs were shared, and in more recent times, a place where those who would normally have never exchanged nothing more than a few pleasantries could forge friendships. 

He wasn’t quite sure why they even called it the Atrium, but maybe it was for the potted tree. A bit more green in these desolate depths was always appreciated.

His quick pace took him right to it. It was simple to get to; exit the workshop through a somewhat discreet door located on the left wall, which would open into a plain hall, then open the third door down. 

Unlike the workshop, the room wasn’t monolithic in nature; rather, it was cozy. The space still was quite roomy, but the low ceiling and haphazard placement of furniture certainly tried to hide that fact. 

And like the workshop, it was abandoned as well. On top of that, the furniture had most definitely been rearranged. The nice couch had been pushed to the back of the room, and the twelve comfy, red fabric chairs had been arranged into a tight circle near the center. One of the stools had been placed in the center of the arrangement, bearing a mug, presumably once filled with coffee or a similar beverage. Unfortunately, the potted tree had also withered and died. 

He moved closer to the odd display, his steps muffled by the stained carpet. 

That is, until he dropped his flashlight, a shriek erupting from him. The stable scene suddenly shrouded in insanity, he fell onto his rump, limbs propelling him away from the circle. The sudden loss of light only propelled his fear to new heights, his heart beating to burst. His back slammed into the plaster wall, breaking his momentum. His legs went instinctively to his chest, breath out of control. 

NononoNONO!

He sat against the wall, gasping for air, yet never catching his breath. It was just… impossible. 

There was no… 

How did this happen…?

Eventually, his breathing slowed, heart following suit. His body remained high strung, however, ready to react to the slightest intrusion. Carefully, he stretched out from his clenched state, crawling to his dropped flashlight. Fast as lightning, he grabbed it, then rapidly crawled back to the wall. 

He… he needed to be sure.

Getting back to his feet, he braced himself against the wall. Sliding against it, he inched little by little, flashlight fixed on the chair circle. Specifically, on the one which was facing the back wall. As its front came into view, he took a sharp intake of breath, but maintained his composure.

A body was sitting in the chair. Like him, it was wearing the standard company mandated clothing, but that was where the similarities ended. The corpse was shrunken and dried in appearance, causing the clothing to hang loosely off of it. The messy, grey hair hung limply from its scalp, and the ashen skin more resembled a prune than actual skin, if in texture rather than the color, though purple-ish red splotches were present on the uncovered skin. 

A once soft and gentle face was now stretched impossibly tight.The eyes were closed, thankfully, but it didn’t help his mind’s grip on sanity. Not to suggest he was about to slip into another insane fit, but just looking at the body was causing his vision to shake slightly, and darkness to envelope the edge of his sight. 

Oh god… it was horrifying...

But… he didn’t even recognize the person. Death’s unsavory transformation had rendered the body... unrecognizable.

Against his better judgement, he moved closer to the corpse, flashlight shakily trained on it. While the corpse itself was giving him mental grief, the implications of its existence plagued him considerably more. Someone had died here, and he couldn’t even tell for how long ago they had; like the rooms their cryo-pods had been located in, preservative gases had been pumped throughout the rest of the facility. 

As a consequence, the natural breakdown of matter here was essentially frozen. And because of the facility being located in a seismically stable piece of crust, on top having constant energy from a geo-thermal vent, they could theoretically sustain their cryo-sleep for as long as they needed to. 

Theoretically, of course. The best case scenario that the engineers had calculated was about three years top for optimal performance. After that, all bets were off, to be colloquial.

And this man had been a post-mortem victim of their systems. While the body could internally break down initially, advanced decomposition couldn’t occur. So no skeleton, just your death-scarred body remaining for however long the Polaris underground was under lockdown. At the very least, the smell of rot had been neutralized by the gases.

His very presence did beg the question though; how did he even get in here? Unless this one didn’t go under? 

There was no other explanation. This whole place was under lock and key, air tight, and that didn’t take into account them being entombed under the rising water. He rubbed his temples, trying to subdue his rising headache. He wasn’t qualified for this, and more importantly, he didn’t need any blood vessels in his brain to burst. 

Being up close to the body wasn’t helping. Truly, it was a horrible experience; up so close, he could see every, tiny... little... detail. His breath came a bit quicker, ears perceiving silent whispers around him. His eyes shot down to the corpse’s torso, searching for a name tag… nothing. A quick, cursory glance over the rest of his body didn’t show any form of identification. Yet he was still dressed as one of them. 

What the hell had happened?

He turned away for a moment to gather his thoughts, gaze falling onto the coffee table. And onto an item besides the coffee cup. A plain, leather book, it looked like. Carefully, he grabbed it, flipping to the beginning of the book. The first page was covered in ink, cramped and near illegible cursive forming a plethora of sentences. At least it was English. 

Intrigued, he read the first few sentences...

….He tried to read the first few sentences, but the sentences were hard to make out… and his concentration was continually shattered by the shrunken corpse next to him. Next to him… rotting, bloating… 

His nerve broke. 

The only sound left was his rapid run out of the Atrium. Through the winding halls, through the workshop, down the Cryo-bay and back into his pod-crypt. The sliding, metal door was quickly resecured, powerful maglocks locking it into place. An illusion of safety against an imaginary threat, but it helped quell the powerful fear running through him.

~~~

He was alone. He was alone! No one left, no one up!

...

Deep breaths… deep breaths… calm down heart… 

…

Now back in his pseudo-safe room, cut off from the facility, and by extension the body… his breathing eventually slowed, heart following suit. 

Tears threatened to overtake him, but he fought them back with some difficulty.

...

He looked down to the book in his grasp. Perhaps… this had the answers. It was his only lead. Once again, he flipped to the first page, himself settling into a comfortable position. At the very least, reading could take his mind off of the entire situation.

The first few pages were filled by the sloppy cursive, presumably forming some sort of message. They were followed by several pages full of hand drawn blueprints and schematics, notes written in cramped handwriting around the page. Their contents remained vague from his cursory glance, but even if he spent the time to look deeper, he had a feeling they wouldn’t make a lick of sense. A final few paragraphs lodged themselves at the back of the book.

The initial writing suffered from the same issue as the schematics did. It was one thing to decipher bad handwriting in print; you could generally tell what the wording was.   
Bad cursive was another beast entirely. It would overlay against itself, similar looking letters and loops forming odd scribbles and impossible letters that were comparable to a two year old’s drawings. Even to him, someone who had written in nothing but cursive since his youth, it was nigh impossible to read. 

He could still make out the occasional vague sentence, but it was the equivalent of being given a few pieces of a puzzle and left to mull over what could have been. It led to nothing but a thirst for more information, a headache, and the occasional overturned table. And in this case, he didn’t have a table to flip.

He skipped looking at the blueprints and schematics, instead going to the final message behind them. Fortune did smile upon him with the few passages left, as the writer had spent time making the writing legible. The message was somewhat short, but a poignant puzzle piece.

...

Our work is done. The last are back in Stasis now, resting with the others. Everything has been completed and set in place, though it leaves me with a sense of melancholy. For those who will undoubtedly read this; I am aware of my actions, and what they mean. Despite what the rest of my colleagues may say, the final stages of this operation require my direct guidance, and your survival hinges on the outcome. I can only hope that I was right, and that my actions weren’t for naught.

For those who stayed awake with me after the rest were put under, I thank you once again for your help. I will freely admit, I do feel some manner of guilt for not going into slumber with you, but this had to be done.

By the time you read this, I will almost certainly be deceased. I know the consequences of my actions, and I will live, and die, with them. As selfish as this may seem, I ask that you forgive me. There was no other way, and regardless of how sappy it may sound, it is the truth. We stand as sentinels of Polaris, and while I will die, you will all remain safe. If our groundwork was laid out properly, our creation may remain as your guard. 

Godspeed,  
~Doctor -------

...

The name had been scribbled out.

So… was that body…? One confirmed death… one note saying he would die... This…

He shoved the tidal wave of emotions down. He needed to stay strong. If not for himself, for the others. At this point, he could only presume the others were still asleep, and if that were true, they needed him. They needed him.

He ran a hand down the page, rereading the message. It just… shook him to his core. After all the death, all their hard work, and this dead scientist just decided to spurn it all. It just didn’t make sense. 

A slight bump in the paper gave him pause. His hand once again ran over the same spot. There was something under the page. Shaking the book dislodged whatever it was. He gently put the book down onto the ground, examining his prize closer.

It was a plastic, rectangular card, large enough for him to clutch with his hand. Despite being blank and featureless, he knew its purpose well. It was a security card, one embedded with an RFID chip. For what, he wasn’t sure.

A sticky note was attached to its backside, however. On the faded paper was “Pod 74 - 47905785” and “Pod 73 - 58705321” under it. 

Two pod codes? 

And the last two in the sequence. English, too. 

This was… useful beyond measure. While the implications around the scientist’s death were unfortunate, not to mention entirely avoidable, perhaps this could help him solve the mystery of why.

~~~

Disengaging his door’s maglocks, he exited into the hall, practically sprinting. The two pods in question were near the back of the hall, which itself was a dead end. He found himself standing in front of a metal door with a spray painted seventy-four. He had removed the sticky note from the card before coming here, and was now holding it, the card itself in his pocket. Now then…

4…  
7…  
9…  
0…  
5…  
7…  
7…  
5…

Each number was slowly inputted into the keypad. After the final number, a small red light above the buttons quickly blinked green, followed by a quiet sound emanating from the pad. He pulled the door open, bracing himself for the worst. If he already found a dead body, who was to say that someone else didn’t have the bright idea?

Thankfully, rather than dead bodies, several stasis safes were instead occupying the space. A storage room.

Aside from the safes, the room was practically identical to his own. Unlike his own safe, these ones were quite larger. A preliminary glance over the room revealed nothing else out of the ordinary, though the stasis pod remained open, still in a state of waiting for its occupant. 

This whole situation, impossibly, had grown murkier, and not in the fun “a handful of quirky teens solving murder-mysteries” way. 

He moved to the stasis lockers to check them. Their locks were already disengaged, but they were still sealed. Whether that was a good or bad sign he couldn’t say, but it certainly was convenient for him. While the lockers weren’t as strong as a traditional safe, they were still difficult to open without their respectives key or passcodes, especially without the proper tools on hand. 

It was a moot point, but if worse came to worst, there was only so much he could do.

He knelt down to the nearest locker, carefully pulling the door open. A low hiss escaped the compartment; presumably the contents had been under some kind of pressure. Another slice of fresh bread sat on top of the rest of the contents, which he put on top of the locker. What it had been sitting on was of much more interest.

It was another set of clothing, folded up neatly next to a pair of rubber boots and an odd looking mask and helmet, as well as many small pieces. Hands shaking slightly, he withdrew the mask, holding it up to his face. Its lenses stared back at him, artificial and dead. The mask itself was dark grey overall, most of its internals neatly integrated into the covering itself. 

He took the rest of the items out, running them over his hand. Certainly, he did recognize some of the articles; they were cannibalized from some of their hazmat suits, the mask being the worst offender. It had more than likely been ripped straight out of one of their exo-prototypes, and was now instead being used in this bastardized ensemble piece. As for the others, he didn’t recognize… it unnerved him greatly. Just what had the others been up to?

Under the rest of the articles was a thin folder of papers. A cursory glance revealed them to be schematics for the suit itself. And unlike the messy ones he found in the book, these were printed and professional, not to mention legible. While he wasn’t going to read it at the moment, he did take time to read the small title at the top of the front page.

ERA V.2

Definitely not official. And again, in English. What was going on?

He put the papers off to the side so he could pilfer the other lockers. Their contents were quite the diverse set, too. Plenty of odd gizmos he couldn’t figure out the use of, a few high capacity hard drives, another three ERAs, a few modified PDAs, several sample bags, backpacks, eight magnetic-coil rifles (Disassembled), and to top it all off, a locker chock full of magnetic rifle ammunition and plenty of heavy, compact batteries. 

In essence, the room was being used for its original purpose of storage. But none of this stuff could help him at the moment. It was all more geared to… exploration, if he had to guess.

Moving back out into the hall, he went to the adjourning pod, quickly punching in its respective code. The lock disengaged, allowing him access to Room Seventy-Three.

Unlike its counterpart in Seventy-Four, the Cryo-pod unit was actually in use. He cracked his knuckles in anticipation.

It was easy enough to access the pod’s diagnostic panel; he had grabbed his laptop from his own room and hooked up a few cables between it and the stasis pod. A bit of fiddling with a terminal program, and Viola, Access to the diagnostic settings of the pod.

The diagnostic UI was of fairly simplistic design, represented by a system that had been styled after a command prompt. Various statistics were represented, most of them concerning vital functions of the pod itself, such as power input, pod condition, etc. A scant three statistics were dedicated to the body itself; since the body was technically neither alive nor dead, they only needed to worry about the condition of the body, neural activity, and chemical balancing.

Thankfully, all the markers were green across the board. The body inside the pod was beginning to break down slightly, but it was still within acceptable limits. That was good, though he hoped that the rest of his colleagues were in a similar condition.

In truth, he was sorely tempted to manually awake the pod’s occupant, but… he simply couldn’t.

There was something blocking his attempts at probing deeper into the UI. By all accounts, he should have been able to get to a bit of the more esoteric information concealed within, but it was outright refusing the commands he fed the terminal. And if he wasn’t able to access anything more than basic information, there was no way he would be able to awaken the occupant.

Straightening up, he stretched his back a bit while looking over the room. The pod had taken up his attention, so he hadn’t gotten much of a look around.

Everything was in order, save for a computer and desk tucked near the back. Were they really that desperate for space? Or was this a part of some secondary plan? It would not have surprised him in the slightest if the initial plan had been compartmentalized to a ludicrous degree. 

Hell, that last section in the book pretty much said it outright. For all he knew, the cursive was purposefully bad so only the author could read it. It wouldn’t be the first time.

But to the computer. He pulled up an office chair, the nice spinny kind, from under the desk and took a seat on it. The computer was a standard PC, with the monitor and keyboard on the desk itself, while the tower was tucked neatly in the desk aperture. A standard setup in the company itself, but in their section specifically, it was quite the rarity; most of the personal computing devices used were laptops for their portability.

Luckily, the computer was still connected to the site network via a rare ethernet connection. No password guessing for him, and praise the almighty cabled connection, as he was fairly certain their wireless internet had been disabled before going under. Not to mention the underground placement of their site network servers. 

It was a simple matter to log in with his network credentials as to access his personal workspace, but it was another to access most of their public data. 

At the very least, he could view the time and date from the interface, as well as his own files. It was six in the evening; it didn’t feel like mid evening, but that was probably his cryo-lag. That was going to complicate his sleep schedule in the future, but it was such a minor worry, he didn’t give it a second thought.

Aside from his own personal files, he was blocked again and again from viewing anything else. In fairness, their internet connection at the current moment was shot, and thus he was unable to access any of their internet based storage, but that problem shouldn’t have been present with their local files.

Was the system itself locking him out? They had employed the use of a few baseline AI to keep everything up to date years before the catastrophe, but they couldn’t block him like this without human oversight. And that was assuming the AI were still functioning at all. Most AI tended to corrupt over time without corrective measure, and a year alone would have been enough to render them nothing more than bickering lines of code, much less whatever they had to be now. 

What would they be now? Random bits of data?

But that wasn’t the point. While the system lockdown was concerning, he had much greater things to worry about. Such as him awakening alone, for one. Finding a dead body and its, in truth, suicide book. The confirmation of at least one still in Cryo-stasis. 

And most importantly, someone had been messing with his files!

Messing may have been a bit of a strong descriptor, in truth. It wasn’t as if someone had randomized the files or deleted them. Not the standard “renaming all your files” prank they sometimes played on each other, or even the infamous “low orbital ion cannon” executable. 

Rather, a plain text file had been dropped smack dab in the center of his desktop, and to rub salt into the wound, they had changed his background into nothing but black arrows over a white backdrop pointing to the file in question. It was difficult to focus on anything else but the file as a result. And to top it all off, the filename was “Readme”.

...Was this some kind of joke?

Muttering unpleasantries under his breath, he opened the file. It wasn’t a batch file, and if this person had gone through such a length to get him to open it, he might as well oblige. Worst case scenario, it told him he was a fool. Neutral case scenario, it was vital information he would need. Best case, it was an invitation to a birthday party, or a notification giving him carpe blanche to awaken the rest of the pods.

It was none of that

...

//  
Log #45_20412_G  
Abstracted Transcript  
//

Polaris Subsystems, Inc.  
#5234AR  
11/17/2056  
9:12 AM

[09:15] initiating “scan.ssh”  
[09:17] surface-negative  
[09:17] ping  
[09:18] Surface facility contact lost  
[09:20] Terminate loop  
[09:22] Awaiting reconnection  
[09:25] Adapting  
[09:30] Changes successful  
[09:32]Resume loop...

…

Polaris Subsystems, Inc.  
#4685BV  
7/23/14078  
1:48 PM

[01:50] initiating “scan.ssh”  
[01:52] ping  
[01:55] Surface facility contact re-established  
[01:55] 47 foreign pings returned. Unknown  
[01:58] initiating “e_scan.ssh”  
[02:00] Confirmed  
[02:00] Array reactivated  
[02:05] Acquiring Data  
[02:10] Environmental Factors determined  
[02:10] Surface-positive  
[02:10]Terminate loop  
[02:11] User#42 / Designation: Scout  
[02:00] initiating “wakeywakey.ssh 42”  
[09:54] Successful

[09:58] Remain hold pattern...

//  
End Transcript  
//

...

...So there were AI still active, after all. Not running perfectly, considering a near twelve thousand year error in regards to the second date, but still probably a fair amount of time. Different AI as well, going off of their call signs. More likely than not, the first AI had dissolved itself when it had lost surface connection, but had put in place a second, near brain dead AI to activate when the connection was re-established. 

That didn’t answer the question of why he had been awoken alone, and him specifically. And then to keep him locked out of their systems. What was this? More likely than not, this whole situation was on a “need to know basis”, and obviously he wasn’t in the know. 

But… what was he supposed to do now? 

He sat back in the chair, boths hands taking hold of his head.

It had specified him specifically, even called him a “scout”. Was this all intentional? Why? 

...Scout.

Had the flood receded?

And with all that equipment in the other pod; that couldn’t have been a coincidence.

Was he supposed to look around?

How was he supposed to do that?

Well, go up to the surface, obviously. Surely there was a way out of here, one that wasn’t blocked off. 

Even if he could get out, then what? Look around, return, and pray that he could resuscitate everyone?

…

He really didn’t have a choice, did he?

Best case, it would lead to him awakening the rest, and worst case, feel the sun once again on his face. Rekindle the hope of humanity’s future. But this was easier said than done. 

He got up from the chair, back arched resolutely. He had a lot of work to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Melodramatic intro aside, this is the beginning of a story that I've thought about for a long time. While I may be throwing another "human in Splatoon" story into this large subgenre, I hope to add something new and unique. At least something different, if nothing else.
> 
> While this chapter doesn’t really contain much of anything having to do directly with the Splatoon, this will not be the case going forward. One could call this “setting the stage”, so to speak.
> 
> Overall, this is more of a side project, but one that I hope to continue. If you have anything to say, I would appreciate to hear it. One can only improve through criticism, after all.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

There was much to be prepared.

His first order of business was to raid Pod Seventy-Four of all the equipment it contained. The surface might, just might be able to support human life once again, but he wasn’t taking any chances. He would be chewed up like jerky otherwise.

He was a scientist, not some kind of hardcore soldier!

If he had to go out into the unknown state of the surface, he would be taking every advantage he could get his hands upon. Stacking the deck was nothing new to him, but for once, his very life depended on it. 

Besides, his bushcraft skills were… minimal, to both his family’s, and now his, immense disappointment. Hopefully, a technological edge could cover it.

For now, he was invested in sorting through every item he could find in the room, as well as their technical documents. 

Disassembled weapons, one pile. 

Bits and bobs, another. 

The ERA suits, a third. 

So on, and so forth. His work was slow, but accurate. If there was one thing he had learned throughout his life, it was that planning was essential. And if you didn’t know what resources you had on hand, you couldn’t plan effectively. And if you couldn’t plan effectively, you would die… 

Well, not pay the rent, at least. His schooling, college especially, had harshly hammered that lesson into him.

But that was beside the point. He had locked the door before embarking on this process (his paranoia demanded it), and he was not leaving it until he had processed everything in here. If not for his planning, for the comfort of control it gave him. While he sat in this room, working with his hands, he was directing his future. 

He was, for better or worse, on his own now.

Even in this locked room, he felt naked. While he knew that the darkness was desolate, nothing residing within, his mind never let go of the possibility that something could be out there. If he were to poke his head out into the hall, nothing but silence and shadow would greet him. Pod Seventy-Four was his sanctuary now, for better or worse. And with the equipment inside, he could extend dominion to the facility outside the pod. 

And after that… he wasn’t sure.

Before too long, everything had been sorted, as well as their documentation, which he was currently poring over. He was not about to use this technology without knowing what it did, or how to use it, especially in regards to the ERA and coil guns. Hazmat suits and magnetic weapons were nothing new, but these prototypes were so different to him.

But he would make do. He sat up against one of the walls, documents in hand and at his side. He had a bit of in-depth reading to do…

~~~

Far above the dead facility, floating on the toxic sea, a boat cut its way through the muck . 

From a casual observation, it was a tarnished beauty; once pristine, though through prolonged use, degraded into the state it was in now. Despite the banged up appearance, it could easily have been mistaken for a vessel meant for recreation, on account of the rather large umbrella jutting up from the stern. Equally, it could have been viewed as a work boat based on the ugly radar dish gracing the bow, among the various orange life preservers and buoys hanging from the sides. An orange trim adorned the ship itself, gleaming brightly despite the grime.

Not to say the boat didn’t match its environment. Aside from the acidic depths, the twilight provided enough light to reveal the occasional ruin that dotted out from the sea.  
The boat was easily the cleanest thing in a few kilometer radius; An old gem amongst a sea of trash.

While some of its additions were rather unnecessary, the extra accompaniments were appreciated by the various work squads.

The group onboard, however, didn’t pay them much mind. Not out of boredom, but of a quiet melancholy and an undercurrent of suppressed panic. 

The four that made up the squad were dressed in identical garb; heavy, orange overalls with teal boots and thick gloves. Each also had a life preserver strapped to their back and a white and teal hat adorning their heads, similar in shade to the boots and gloves. They were spread out over the small ship.

Two of them sat near the boat’s right side, talking. An inkling boy, and one of the inkling girls. The male kept his tentacles tied back, while the female let a single, wavy tentacle go down the side of her face. Whatever natural hues they possessed had been dyed a bright orange.

“What are we going to do!?” The girl shrieked. She wrung her glove, worriness creasing her brow. 

“Rio, listen! We’ll be fine,” the boy told her, which only served to exasperate her further. His hand tightly gripped the ship’s edge, stretching the glove’s rubber taunt.

“But it’s hazard level MAX, Marius! How do you expect us to survive this?” She shouted, slamming both of her hands down onto the side of the ship. He jumped slightly, his own hands quickly raised to a placating gesture.

“Please, calm down! Failing a shift isn’t the worst thing in th-” Marius was cut off by Rio aggressively grabbing his shoulders, shaking him.

“We can’t afford to fail this time! You know that rent’s coming up!” Following the tirade, Rio slumped onto the edge, staring glumly down into the water.

“I know, I know, but we still have some emergency funds, not to mention contacts.” He replied, mimicking her position on the side. As much as they were loath to use those methods, it could very well be their only saving grace.

Rio sighed, “But we can’t rely on that forever, you know that. Or mooching.” One hand dangled over the edge, shifting with the movements of the boat.

“Yeah,” he huffed, “Look, if worst comes to worst, we’ll live, ok? And listen, Mr. Grizz let us pick out our weapons this time, so we’ll be fine!” He straightened up, giving Rio’s shoulder a reassuring pat.

She stiffened, shooting upward as well, “...Hold your seahorses, he did!? He never said anything about that.” 

Marius gave her an exasperated look, “He told us before we went out, you really don’t remember?”

“I was still getting into my gear! Seriously, you guys don’t tell me anything.” Rio pouted, crossing her arms.

“Or you just don’t listen,” A new voice said, coming up behind them.

Rio turned around, “I was listening, Vista!” she nearly shouted, throwing her hands up in exasperation, “I always listen!”

Vista, the octoling of their group, scoffed, “Sure you were, bucko.” Her curly tentacles were, for the most part, covered by her hat. “Like last time. You nearly got us fired!”

“That wasn’t my fault and you know it!” Rio objected, turning her attention to Vista. “Marius, back me up here!”

Marius turned red stammering, “Well, I… uh… Celia, get over here!” He hollered.

“Mari- For the love of cod, why?” Vista fought down the urge to slap him.

“I didn’t want to inflame things further.”

“Then why did you-”

“Marius, what the shell do you want?!” A cold voice spoke, cutting through their conversation. It’s owner, a reserved inkling gal, had marched up to their small group. A scowl adorned her face, her two orange tentacles tied into a practical braid. 

“Oh for the love of…” Vista mumbled, putting on a fake smile before turning to the inkling, “Hi Celia, you ready for the shift?”

Celia ignored her, instead going for Marius. She pointed a finger at his sternum, “I swear, if you’re using me as a distraction again, I’ll-”

“No, no, it’s not that,” he hurriedly assured, “Rio was just curious about something. Come on Rio, ask your question.”

“I… uh,” she stammered, before pointing an accusatory finger at Marius, “he just wanted to avoid defending me!”

“Marius! I swear-” Celia abruptly stopped, taking several deep breaths. A grin grew across her face, “And what was he supposed to defend?”

“My honor!” Vista rolled her eyes, while Rio continued on, “Y’know about how we were almost fired and that it definitely wasn’t my fault.”

“Oh my cod, what was this even about now?” She ran a hand down her face, sighing, “Come on, spit it out.”

“It was over Rio’s listening habits. About us getting to use our own weapons,” Vista said, smirking to herself. This had turned out better than what she thought.

“Just… you have my permission to smack them next time this happens. Maybe that’ll put some sense in them.”

“I- I’m a perfectly good listener!” Rio objected, shouting now.

The other inkling gal tutted, waving a finger, “Clearly not, but that’s beside the point.”

“And, Celia, that point is…?” Marius trailed off, his hand making a looping motion. He had taken to leaning on the ship’s edge nonchalantly.

Celia gave off a sigh, sounding exasperated, “My point is, Mr. Grizz figured we could use the extra help, so please, stop bickering like hatchlings!”

“But still, you guys don’t tell me anything,” Rio huffed. A red hue suffused her cheeks.

“Or, once again, you just don’t listen,” Vista chided, chuckling to herself, “I remember him saying it perfectly. Something about him really wanting us to not fail today. You really don’t remember that?”

“No! That really doesn’t sound like him!” Rio said, metaphorical steam coming out of her ears. Her hands were clenched, giving the ship side a death grip..

“She’s being honest, Rio,” Celia chimed in. She had half stopped paying attention, choosing to look over the sea.

“Look, it doesn’t matter,” Marius interjected, “We’ll try our best, and if we fail, it will be good practice for next time we’re put on this shift. Besides, we’re paid regardless.” A pittance compared to a successful shift’s salary, but better than nothing.

“Yeah yeah,” Rio mumbled, scuffing a boot against the floor, “You at least grabbed some dualies for me, right?”

“Way ahead of you,” Celia said, “It’s with the rest of our weapons.” She took to leaning against the edge, taking a more relaxed pose. 

“Oh, speaking of,” Vista started, somewhat sheepish, “Where are we working, anyways?” She let out an awkward laugh, trying to hide her embarrassment.

“Ruins of Ark Polaris.” Celia replied. 

Both Marius and Rio flinched, gaining a confused look from Vista. It earned a sigh from Celia, “Are you serious? Am I seriously the only one who pays attention around here?”

“I pay attention!” Rio protested, earning a raised eyebrow from Marius. “Sheesh! But you weren’t!”

“Oh, shut it,” Marius replied, “Regardless, we’ll… make do.”

Vista piped up, “What do you mean by that. Surely it can’t be that bad,” a part of her wanted to ask why they were so paranoid over it, but she quashed it down.

A shocked countenance graced Rio, “You haven’t?”

“Well… no?” Vista replied, “I don’t think I’ve ever been put on a shift with it before. I mean, I’ve only just started doing this with you guys, remember?”

“Well… it’s like…” Marius said, but quickly trailed off, thinking for a moment,“...It’s sort of hard to describe,” he finished lamely.

“Allow me,” Celia butted in, “It’s a more vertical work site, of sorts. It’s a kind of outdoor tower, with multiple levels. They get progressively smaller the higher you go. Mr. Grizz did have a few inkrails installed though, so it isn’t as much of an issue as you think. Still a pain though...” She muttered under her breath.

“Oh, and the wreckage too!” Rio chimed, a gleam in her eye.

Celia shot her a pointed glare, “I was going to get to that.”

“And… why does it warrant attention?” Vista asked, “All the other work sites have all sorts of trash littered about.” 

“Well,” Marius replied, “It’s a different type of wreck; Supposedly the whole ruins is prehistoric, or something like that.”

Vista blinked, “But why does Mr. Grizz use it as a worksite then? Shouldn’t it be examined further?” Vista couldn’t wrap her mind around the idea. Why were the salmonids allowed to romp about it, then?

“They already did. Aside from a few small things, there really isn’t that much there.” Marius replied, looking out at a twisted metal hull jutting from the sea.

“Because a big, crashed ship… thing is small, Marius!” Rio quipped, lightly punching his shoulder, “You just want to keep your eyes closed to the truth!”

“I’m just looking at it rationally! Do you really think that hu-” 

“You two, quit it!” Celia nearly shouted, but restrained herself with monumental effort, “I know we’re all stressed, but shell, lay off each other!”

Rio and Marius both fell silent, their eyes locking. “Right… um… Sorry, Rio,” Marius mumbled.

“You too,” She muttered. Both broke eye contact, resorting to standing about awkwardly.

“Good!” Celia clapped her hands together, “Now, why don’t we all just settle in for the rest of the ride? We still have a bit more time to kill before we reach the worksite.”

“Ok…” Vista said, still trying to comprehend the previous conversation “But what were they getting on about?” 

Even after living with these three for… quite a while, now that she thought about it, this hadn’t come up before.

“It’s… just stupid, in truth,” Celia sighed, “They’re just arguing about if it’s human made or not. Please don’t get them started on it again…”

“It is not stupid Celia!” Rio protested, “You’ve seen what’s there!”

“But, that doesn’t prove anything! It could be some failed Octarian experiment or something!”

“SHUT IT!” Celia shouted, “We are not going back into this!” She took several deep breaths. “Now then, why don’t we just go and make sure our weapons are ready.” 

She strode off to the ship’s cabin, dragging Rio along with her. Marius and Vista were left by the side.

“So… what is…” she gestured to the quickly retreating Rio, “All that about?”

“Well… you know how Rio is with all those conspiracy theories, right?” He began, clasping his hands together.

Vista nodded, though only somewhat, “Sort of?”

“Well, she has this crazy idea that some of the wreckage at the Ruins is human made. Can you believe that?” Vista shivered slightly, then nodded again. It certainly did seem like something Rio would believe. 

Though it really were human made...

“I think I see where you’re going with this…”

“Well, she thinks that they built what eventually became those ruins. It’s… infuriating.” He let out an angry breath, both hands grasping the top of his head.

“Maybe beg to differ?” She suggested, “Do you really want such a simple thing to ruin your friendship with her?”

Marius sighed, “No, not really. But for now,” he shot Vista a grin, “Shall we get ready?”

Vista nodded, “We shall.”

~~~~~~

...One more pull… almost… and… done!

He had just finished pulling the ERA up around his body. It had been exceedingly hard to wriggle into; despite appearing quite baggy, it possessed a tight, inner suit he had to wear underneath it. Thankfully, it was surprisingly easy to move in, all things considered. He put on the mask and helmet last, sealing himself off from the atmosphere. 

He shrugged his shoulders, as well as stretching a tad. 

Not bad. 

The ERA was the last item on his checklist; he had prepared the rest of his meager supplies beforehand. One of those magnetic rifles, some electronic tools, batteries, some of his personal items.

Still no food and water, though.

And… that was all that he could do in here. Just a lone scientist with bits of advanced technology against an unknown world. It was a depressing thought.

With nothing else left, he quietly left the room, magnetic rifle at the ready. He didn’t care how abandoned the underground may have seemed to be, he wasn’t taking any chances. 

Thankfully, his worry appeared to be unfounded. A quiet, yet terrifying, sweep through the sector failed to reveal any iota of life. 

Even then, he kept a death grip on his rifle; his mind continually conjured scenarios of shadowy beings breaking through the locked partitions. Despite his best efforts to suppress the thoughts, they continued to manifest. 

His quest for food and water didn’t bear fruit. Aside from the few slices of bread that were used to test if a stasis locker had functioned properly, he hadn’t come across anything potable or edible. He was fairly sure they had possessed some food near the end, but where had it gone? 

In desperation, he had even returned to the Atrium to scrounge about. Not that it turned up anything, save for another terrifying encounter with that body.

On a brighter side, he had also found what may have been a way out of the underground. While many of the old entrances and exits to the surface were collapsed, he had found one that had been sealed off instead. And from what could see, the only way out.

He cast one last look at the hallway behind him. Despite how much he had wanted to leave earlier, he felt an odd sense of melancholy at the prospect of finally getting topside. At least down here, it was technically safe, not to mention that he was still around with what he knew. The countless hours, laughs shared, miracles created, his friends… 

...

His head snapped up, shaking him from his thoughts. He didn’t have a choice.

“Well… I’ll be back soon… Hopefully,” he mumbled to the hall, his friends, as he stepped through the steel door.

Inside was a small and rather cramped space. Aside from the hastily erected barrier and the other reinforced wall opposite, the room otherwise reassembled a section of the hallway. Cautiously, he closed the door behind him. It… almost reminded him of an airlock. 

Who would build an airlock?

The other door opposite of the entrance was similar to the one he had just entered through, save for having no obvious way of opening it. Unless...

There was a small panel near it, welded onto the wall.

What if he-

...

In truth, he wasn’t sure what the surface would be like after all this time. A barren wasteland? Nature taking over the above ground building ruins? A lush plain devoid of any signs of civilizations? Everything remaining normal after all? 

Suffice to say, the sudden rush of toxic water flooding into the airlock wasn’t what he was expecting.

The sheer pressure of the water slammed him back against the wall, knocking the breath out of him. The suit absorbed much of the impact, thankfully, but it still knocked the air out of him. The intense pressure subsided as water completely encompassed the airlock, leaving him afloat in the opaque fluid. It obscured his vision entirely, leaving him awkwardly floating in the muck. His mind had gone into overdrive, briefly panicking as he tried to reorient himself.

...He could still breathe.

His mind slowly calmed down as he floated in the airlock. It… was surprisingly tranquil, now that he was used to the strange sensation. 

He slowly swam to the door, reveling in the sensation. It took him a moment to find the opening, as he couldn’t see his own hands, much less his surroundings. Finding the frame, he pulled himself out of it, kicking into the open water. Instinctually, he began to swim upwards.

Up and up he went. Even if the ERA wasn’t built with swimming in mind, it still cut through the water fairly well. Hydrophobic materials had their advantages, he supposed. And a constant internal pressure; No nitrogen narcosis for him.

He abruptly broke the surface, barely able to stay afloat above the waves. Above, the sky was filled with wispy bits of clouds, accented by the brilliant colors of a sunset. Even while surrounded by the sickly green of the water, it was beautiful and serene.

It had been too long since he had last seen the sky.

While he bobbed on the waves, his head was rapidly looking about for anything to grab hold onto. He couldn’t tread water forever, and he really, really didn’t like being in the vast, open water.

Thankfully, he had emerged close to a bit of land jutting out from the sea; the only surface around, wreckage of an unknown variety littered about. Carefully, he began to swim to the protrusion.

Closer observation of the “island” proved it not to be an organic one; rather, one forged of metal and plastic, twisted into the shape of a “tower”, of sorts.

Eventually, he reached its shore, and heaved himself upon the structure. He laid there for a moment, stomach down, breathing in heavily. The bodily deterioration might’ve been more severe than he thought, especially after his involuntary swim. Not that he had much of a choice but to endure. To that effect, he forced himself back into a standing position.

Now that he was on it, it obviously wasn’t a pile of junk like he thought earlier. Rather, it was entirely industrial, but obviously had gone through several slapdash repairs. In a way, it had distorted whatever this structure had been originally. 

Tarps, plastic, and plexiglass adorned the sides of the area, as well as strips of alternating light ropes running along them. The metal making up the ground, at the very least, looked professionally installed and still somewhat clean. It was utterly alien, yet so familiar.

There were a platitude of green and white markings, odd and faded, on the ground, even the occasional “sticker” slapped on. 

What.

Today’s been a strange day…

Reaching the top of the tower-like structure, he finally was able to get a good look at the area and the debris littering the surrounding waters. For one, the immediately apparent sight of a crashed space shuttle, or at least its main engine off in the distance, not far from where he had emerged.

Why such a vehicle crashed was another major mystery to add to the pile, but was the most “ordinary” object compared to the other things floating nearby.

It was a testament to his shifting priorities that he considered the thought intriguing, rather than maddening.

Some spotlights had been set up near the spacecraft wreckage, not to mention around the little metal island itself. What took the cake though were a few sparse buoys way out from the island. They were otherwise normal bottom wise, but protruding from them were large metal spires, and on those spires were…

Overgrown food items? 

They bobbed to the wave’s beat, swaying on their pikes while remaining illuminated by the spotlights. From his perch, it was easy enough to see that they were fake. But still, why? What the hell was going on here? 

That was going to be the question of the day, wasn’t it? 

Why?

Why why why? 

He turned around to survey the rest of the area, but was caught off guard by the sight that had been behind him.

A… A city?

It was nearly out of sight, close to the horizon, but indeed, a cityscape stretched far from his location. He fell to his knees, eyes focused solely on it. There were lights, skyscrapers… a modern metropolis. And so close, just on the horizon.

His entire mood flipped on its head.

...They were saved. They were saved!

Civilization was still intact! Undoubtedly, things had changed in their absence, but that's besides the point. they weren’t alone! The flood hadn’t entirely receded, of course, but still!

A smile crossed his face. Things were finally looking up!

~~~

“So, this the site, right?” Vista asked, peering at the rapidly approaching structure. She hefted a Splat Roller on her shoulder.

“Yep,” Celia said, herself holding a Splattershot, “Welcome to Ruins of Ark Polaris. Quite the view, eh?”

“Yeah…” Vista replied, taking in the view around her, “...I see what you mean now. Why this will suck, I mean.” Her gaze raked over the crashed starship, though to her, it only reminded her of a few octarian inventions.

Vista paused for a moment, double taking at the site. She peered closely at the top, “...Is it just me, or is there someone up there already?” She pointed a finger, following her eyesight.

Marius leaned against the railing, eyes narrowed intently at where she pointed.

“Um… I think so?” Marius replied. He craned to get a closer look.

“But, why would someone already be there? How would they even get there?” Rio asked, twirling one of her Dualies. 

“Someone stranded after a shift?” Celia suggested, “Only real scenario I can think of.”

“But,” she sighed, “I suppose that doesn’t matter.” 

“What do you mean?” Vista asked, “I think it matters quite a bit. What if we’re stranded?”

“We won’t be,” she replied, confident, “But, think about it this way. An extra person will be on the shift, completely on accident. Mr. Grizz can’t fault us for that.”

Marius’s eyes lit up, “Oh, I see now! It’s a kind of perfect storm.”

“Precisely.”

“I don’t know,” Rio admitted, “This feels a bit fishy…”

“Oh, relax,” Celia replied. What she added certainly didn’t help her relax.

“What’s the worst that could happen?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter down! 
> 
> In truth, I don’t really have much to say. We’ve had the introduction of four new characters, and in truth, introducing them all at once might prove to be a mistake. I suppose we’ll find out soon, eh?
> 
> Regardless, thank you for your patience and feedback! I'm glad to see that a lot of you are enjoying the story so far. I hope not to disappoint in the future.  
> Thanks for reading, and see you next time!


	3. Chapter 3

“Now that this is settled, everyone ready to jump?”

Celia glanced at the crew. Marius, clutching his Bamboozler with grim determination. Rio, nervously twirling her dualies. Vista, looking over her roller, knuckles tight on the handle. 

This was her team. A ragtag team; misfits really, but her misfits. Win or lose. Success or failure.

Regardless of what this shift threw at them, they were ready.

“Listen, guys,” she began, “We all know what this shift will involve, but I think we can… well, do this.”

“You sure?” Vista asked, “Even with that creep perched on the tower?”

“Creep? Do you really have to refer to someone as a creep?” Marius asked.

Vista flinched, “Sorry, sorry. Look, I don’t know. They could be a disgruntled employee, or… I really don’t know. I don’t think they were stranded.”

Rio piped up, “Yeah, why would someone be out there anyway. Unless…” her eyes lit up, “Perhaps they’re looking at the human ship!”

“Rio, not now!” Celia growled, trying to keep her temper down, “Just remember…”

“No, forget it. Let’s do this.”

“But… don’t we need Mr. Grizz’s confirmation?” Vista asked, “I know we’re already breaking protocol and all, but still…”

Celia’s bad mood vanished.

“Oh, Vista, Vista, Vista…” Celia tutted, shaking her head, “Let’s get you in on a little secret Mr. Grizz doesn’t want the newbies to know.”

“Celia! You can’t just tell her!” Rio protested, “You’ll ruin the fun!”

“I have to agree with her,” Marius said, “There’s a proper ritual for this, you know that!”

“Listen,” Celia said, “I think we can make an exception for Vista, especially because of the upcoming saltbath.” She took a breath, “Vista, Mr. Grizz doesn’t actually watch the shifts.”

A pause.

“...That’s it?” Vista asked, “I was expecting something more… I don’t know, world shattering?”

“So you already knew?” Marius asked.

“Well, more of a guess,” she admitted, “He kept saying the same stuff over and over again. I caught on.”

“You really do take the fun out of everything, you know that, right?” Rio pouted, crossing her arms.

A small smirk graced Vista’s face, “I try my best.”

“Anyways…” Celia drawled, “There’s no point in putting this off. Everyone ready?”

Nods from all around.

“Then let’s do this. For real this time.”

~~~

The view from up here was amazing. 

He had perched himself at the top of the metal island, looking out at the distant city.

Despite the toxic sea and wreckage, it still was a beautiful evening. The wispy, evening-tinged sky highlighted the bright metropolis in the distance. How quiet his surroundings were, the waves striking the base… it was peaceful, in a sense. Him, alone, just sitting on the top of this structure, feet dangling over the edge.

Far away. On the outskirts of the world. Isolated from contact.

...Oh. Right.

His previous elation may have been displaced. Very much so, now that he was really mulling it over. On one hand, yes, there was civilization off in the distance, but on the other, there was the small, insignificant fact that it was across a vast expanse of water. For all intents and purposes, an ocean.

He was stranded, plain and simple. Retreat back to Polaris was impossible; how would he even find the airlock in all that muck? The city was his only real chance, but how would he even get there?

The issue of being cut off from Polaris was much more… significant than he was treating it, but it was the least of his worries for now.

To compound issues, there was an interference of some kind across the lower band of the electromagnetic spectrum, rendering any communication he had useless. Both deaf and mute. 

It felt so hopeless. The view had morphed into a vindictive picture, mocking him. His savior, the city, so close, yet so far, across that damned water! An uncrossable, poisoned void. 

Cautiously, he slipped off the ledge, dropping to the level below. It hurt to land, but he was beyond caring for such trivial things. He… just couldn’t stand being up there, being trapped by an endless expanse.

His head fell into his hands, lips mumbling a belligerent, silent prayer.

I… I just… I can’t do this.

~~~

A jump.

A shriek.

A mystery.

“So… where did they go?” Rio asked, curiously gazing around the now empty platform, “Could’ve sworn they were up here.”

The other three had broken their loose formation upon landing, and were looking about as well. To their dismay, the person was gone.

“Yeah, me too,” Marius replied, “It’s like they just vanished. Rather spooky, if you ask me.” 

They fanned out a bit on the platform, weapons held at the ready. 

“I’m sure they’ll turn up,” Celia snorted. She had begun spraying her tangerine ink across the terrain. The others soon copied her, spreading out in their own direction..

Vista rolled her eyes, “Of course. Don’t sound so happy Celia.” 

Not one to waste time, Vista had begun down one of the ramps, leaving a trail of ink with her roller. Celia let out a huff, following behind.

Beforehand, they had agreed that it would be best to work in pairs for this shift. Rio and Marius as one pair, while Celia and Vista worked as another. Celia and Marius would provide fire support from behind for their respective partner, while the other would keep them protected. That was how their plan was to work, and it usually did, but in the madness of Hazard level MAX, who knew.

It was with furrowed brows that Vista and Celia worked their way down the ramp to the water’s edge. They stopped at the edge of the water, which had already started bubbling.

“Well, here goes nothing,” Vista mumbled, her roller held in a white knuckled, vice grip. 

“Yep,” Celia apathetically stated, glaring at the waves, “Let’s just get this over with.” 

“Just keep me safe,” Vista nervously said, looking back to Celia, then up the ramp. 

“Will do.” Celia grunted, hefting her Splattershot. Her gaze raked across the bubbling sea, “Will do.” 

A pause. Vista stood frozen, still staring up the ramp.

Celia frowned, expecting an answer, “Vista? Earth to Vista?”

No response.

“Vista?” She turned to check on Vista, tearing her eyes off the sea, and-

“...Stop! Act natural,” Vista whispered, the words out of barely moved lips.

Vista’s tone caught Celia off guard, “What? Why?” She shot back, keeping her own voice low. In all her life, she had never heard Vista sound so, for lack of a better term, scared. 

Vista turned back to her.

“Just… look over my shoulder,” Vista muttered, trying to wrangle her voice back under control, “No sudden movements..”

“They?” Celia asked, though she complied, carefully turning to face Vista. “Now, what am I looking… for…” She stammered the last bit, catching what Vista spied.

Initially, Celia had missed them; in the rapidly darkening dusk, they blent in quite well with the metals that made up the Ark. But fortunately for her, the figure hadn’t accounted for the ramp to put them against the horizon. And… how close the person was to Vista and herself. Even then, she couldn’t make out any fine details, something about their silhouette felt… unnatural. 

Was this the same person they had seen from the boat?

A foghorn sounded off in the distance, startling Celia out of her consternation. She jumped back, Vista flinching as well. It startled the stranger as well, causing them to flee from view.

Celia stared at where they had been, “...Vista, any ideas?”

Instead of answering, Vista was already running up the ramp, leaving her in the dust. Her brow was creased in worried determination. 

“For the love of- we still have a shift to work!” Celia shouted at her retreating form.

~~~

What… were they?

Nevermind of how they had appeared out of nowhere. Or, for that matter, how he had missed a boat that had seemingly materialized out of nowhere.

While he was covered head to toe in the ERA, he couldn’t say the same about his observer. At his distance, it was quite easy to make out their features. Or rather, her features.

She was dressed in a type of work clothing; thick, orange, overalls, teal gloves and boots, topped off with a white and orange fabric cap. That was a very good sign. She also appeared to be holding some oversized paint roller, which was less so. What in the-

Though moving beyond her clothing and closer scrutinizing her face was… disturbing. 

She. Was. Not. Human.

Not human! Not human! Not! Human! 

He stood there stunned, all thoughts blown out of his mind. Like a cold front, however, a rush of newborn introspection burst forth.

She could pass from a distance, easily, in fact; similar body structure, similar proportions, even if the semblance gave off a strange feel. But up close, and having a chance to study her face…

Purple/Black highlights around her wide eyes. Three, prominent fangs were visible in her open mouth. Very outward, pointy ears. The first three were a bit odd, perhaps cosmetics of some kind, but the third glaring difference couldn’t be so easily ignored. Curly, orange tentacles came out of her scalp, tampered down by her hat. 

Tentacles. Not hair, tentacles.

He… he just couldn’t compute the sheer impossibility in front of him. It was... surreal. But… no, this couldn’t be right. This couldn’t be right! 

There. Had. To. Be. A. Logical. Explanation. 

He would not accept anything less.

Though as she turned back to the sea, her companion had her turn to gawk at him. Similar orange tentacles, though they appeared to be braided in the back (he had a good look as she turned around), and her highlights appeared to be more of a thin, black mask around her eyes, like a raccoon. Instead of a paint roller, however, she held a plastic water gun..

He took a small step back. Then another. 

...Whatever that boat was, it was his only escape.

He needed to get to it. 

Now.

~~~

“Vista! Wait!” Celia shouted, running after Vista. Without her, she’d be a sitting duck for the Salmonids, and the last thing she needed was to be splatted over and over and over…

“Vista!”

About halfway up the ramp was when the screams started. Not from any of them; but… something else entirely. Distorted, raspy shrieks that grated against her ears. She had never heard the Salmonids make that sound, much less her team. They barely sounded like something an inkling could create, and the only real culprit behind them had to be that figure.

It was disconcerting, but only served to further her confusion. This person definitely wasn’t affiliated with Mr. Grizz, but then, why else would someone be out here? The retail value? Or perhaps the Salmonids, who were practically swarming on the Ruins now.

And suddenly, with one last push up the ramp, everything laid before her.

The stranger, shakily backing away from an approaching Steelhead. Vista, roller raised above her head.The water, still bubbling dangerously.

“What in the…?” She mumbled, finally getting a quick look at this stranger. Or more accurately, what they were wearing.

From what she could tell, it was a grey, sealed environment suit, covering them from head to toe in dull plastic. A backpack, in similar design, was on their back, and they were holding an odd, white charger. She wasn’t quite sure, but… it didn’t look like any type she’d ever seen. 

Not that it mattered, as they weren’t even using it. Rather, the figure paralyzed by apparent fear, if their muffled shrieks were of any indication. Even while the Steelhead inflated one of its grotesque bombs, they moved at a crawl, still screaming all the while.

Celia didn’t have time to watch, however. A smallfry had snuck up behind her, whacking her in the back of her knee with its frying pan. She grunted, falling to a knee. The smallfry’s victory was short-lived, as it was quickly splattered by Celia’s gun.

She turned back just in time to see the Steelhead lob its bomb at the Stranger. Another high pitched shriek, but still, they were paralyzed. Almost like they’d never seen a Steelhead. A greenie, perhaps?

...And that would explain a lot. A damn newbie wanted to be the new hot stuff, and thought it would be a good idea to try and be the big hero who took on a shift by themselves. They probably rustled up that odd suit, and stowed away to get here. 

What was wrong with them!?

...And that would mean they didn’t have a life preserver…

Vista must’ve realized this too, as she had ran up to them, to try and jerk them away from the bomb.

“Wait!” Celia shouted, running as well.

She grabbed their shoulder, heaving back with all her mi-

The inky projectile exploded.

No!

Celia stood with lead legs, helplessly observing. Vista was down on the ground, covered in the Salmonid’s ink. Not splatted, but barely. As was the Stranger, who was lying face down in the ink.

She tore her eyes from the display.

Damn it damn it damn it-

Later! Now wasn’t a time to stand around slackjawed!

She turned back, wildly firing her weapon at the oncoming horde.

Deal with them, then she could help Vista.

~~~

What... what happened?

Pain… pain…

His front screamed at him. He was screaming. He was facedown on the ground, dazed. 

He marshelled his senses enough to get back to his feet. The world felt… shiny, shaky… his ears were ringing. Everything felt… slow... disconnected.

A few more uncertain steps were taken away from the horrid beast behind him, only for him to trip. Whatever he had tripped on let out a pained groan.

One of the females was faceup on the ground, the nauseous green covering her. Her purple highlighted eyes were still open, staring up into the air, a somewhat glazed look over them. 

...

...They really did look a lot like humans. They were still genetic misfits, but compared to the hulking behemoth behind him, they were practically natural spawn of the world.

Her friend was behind her, shock and disbelief written across her own face. Her expression quickly morphed to anger as she raised her water gun at the monster in front of them. Several globs of orange paint spat out from it, splashing off of the beast like water off an oily surface. It roared in defiance, quickly generating another one of those plastic, tarlike bombs.

He glanced at it, then back to the prone form on the ground, then back to the quickly forming bomb… Genetic aberration or not, he couldn’t stomach the thought of leaving her there. They resembled humans just enough... 

While her friend shouted a sort of bubbly battlecry and launched a volley of shots at the beast, he grabbed her friend under the arms to drag her. It was… difficult, considering his tipsy state, but he managed to drag her back, away from the monster. As they went up the ramp, the green goop gave way to the orange ink. The residual green on his boots hissed and fizzled on contact, quickly burning off, as did some of the ink on his dragee.

As soon as they hit the paint, she… distorted… somehow, slipping from his grasp and into the paint in a fluid motion. Like she never existed.

What…?

She emerged a second later, the green paint completely gone from her, as well as an oversized paint roller clutched in her hand. 

...Did he have a concussion?

An odd glance his way was sent by her, followed by a bubbly blurb of what he could presume was speech. Before she could dash off, the monster from earlier finally crawled up the ramp, glowering at them. Her friend was nowhere to be seen.

The one he dragged up threw the paint roller forward, launching a line of orange paint at it. The monster shrugged it off, like the paint shots from earlier. Nothing was working!

...Oh god, it was up to him now, wasn’t it?

He awkwardly fished his rifle from his back, then brought it to his shoulder. The safety was quickly flipped off. A low hum emitted from the weapon as the coils charged up. While he did so, he peered through the scope, lining up the sights with the center of the head. Considering it had stopped, it was easy enough to keep a bead on it, even in his state. Practically point blank.

Deep breath in… he pulled the trigger. 

A sound rending “Crack!” echoed from the weapon, jerking his shoulder back in recoil. Simultaneously, the beast exploded in a shower of green goop, leaving behind nothing else. Except… a few glowing bits in the bile?

Eggs?

She (he was going to refer to her as Curly) stared blankly at him for a second, before running forward to grab one of the eggs, then diving once more into the paint. 

While he stood there, utterly confused by the insanity around him, a life preserver made its way up the ramp they had previously ascended. It was bouncing up and down, to and fro. 

Curly returned a second later, flinging more paint onto the preserver from her paint roller. A peculiar sound, followed by her friend (who he was going to refer to as Braid) bursting up from where the life preserver was. Braid, despite her miraculous appearance, looked surprisingly angry, shouting something at him in her odd language. While he couldn’t understand, he was fairly certain that it wasn’t anything pleasant.

It was interrupted by several soapy screams coming from the top platform, effectively cutting Braid off. She and Curly shared a quick look, before both vanishing into the paint. 

He could barely wrap his mind around what was happening. The little island had gone from an abandoned place of peace to an all out war zone. Though instead of blood and bullets, it was instead explosions and paint. And these monstrosities as well…

What the hell was going on?!

~~~

Celia ran to the basket, golden egg in hand, cursing viciously under her breath. It hadn’t even been five minutes, and things were already going pear-shaped. The Salmonids had been riled up into full force, more so than they expected. 

They always seemed to become more aggressive at dusk, but this was ridiculous! She held nothing but pity for the work crews that staffed these particular shifts. So, logically, she pitied herself and her friends. 

And that one other person, too, she supposed, even if they were infuriatingly stupid.

She slipped the egg into the Grizzco. Egg Basket™. Turning quickly, she ran down the ramp, passing the unknown figure. They still stood where they had shot the Steelhead, shaking slightly, charger still in their death grip . 

What was wrong with them?

“Celia! Help!” She heard Marius shout from the top platform. 

Celia grabbed the last golden egg off of the ground, reversing to swim back up the platform. She deposited the egg as she sprinted past the basket. Just in time, too, as Marius and Rio were quickly becoming overwhelmed by chums and cohocks. With her help, their combined firepower was able to push back the Salmonid charge, but that same, dry scream pierced through the air. 

Again!?

Marius and Rio followed Celia’s mad swim to the source of the scream. She arrived at the ramp just in time to see a Maw snap up from the ink, engulfing the stranger in one fell swoop. Her heart spiked. They weren’t wearing a life preserver!

...One didn’t float up from the ink, but… there wasn’t an explosion that indicated someone was splatted. 

“Celia! Get your head in the game!” Marius shouted, splatting another chum. She shook her head, refocusing.

The Maw was now back in the ink, all but its bobber. And now it was coming right for her. She made her way back to the basket, the Maw in tow. 

Ok… and-

She ran over the bobber, leaving a splat bomb on top of it. The Maw shot up to engulf its prey, not realizing its mistake. 

Splat!

...

Wait… No, that couldn’t be right.

Lying amongst the Golden Eggs and residual ink was the stranger, facedown, green and her own orange ink sliding off of their apparel.   
Were they… swallowed by the Maw...?

Who the shell was this person!? Not even the best equipment they had could just let someone survive in the belly of a Maw!

She’d just… figure this out later.

For now, they quite literally had bigger Salmon to fry.

~~~

Reality had devolved into a fever dream.

Demonic, metal faces in the shape of fish, trailed by a rain of toxic goop behind it. The same substance raining down from the heavens, working hard to wash away the orange. Small impacts and explosions that drove him back into the ground.

No! Stay back!

Crack!

Crack!

During a small lull in their numbers, he had retrieved another magazine from his bag; his current one was running dry. If he let up... 

He took careful, if shaky aim from his perch on an upper ramp, his target being a motorized vehicle lurching towards him. The transparent window in the center of it revealed it was driven by one of the smaller mutants. Even though it was made out of nothing but scrap, it still ran. 

Of course, he was about to fix that.

Crack!

His shot punched a hole through the crude vehicle, liquidizing the occupant and tearing the machine apart.

Finally, he was using this thing for its intended purpose.

Before he could even lower his rifle, a bubbly shout hit his ears. One of the psuedos, the male, shouting and pointing at something. What was he on abo-

An immense pressure hit him square on his sternum. It knocked him down, pinning him to the ground, all in the blink of an eye. A high pitched whining, almost like a tea kettle boiling deafened him as he focused every fiber of his being on breathing. 

“...hah… hah…” he could only get small breaths in quick gasps. His chest was searing, crushed inward from the force.

“...hah… hah…”

~~~

Rio, despite her eccentricities, was a squid who had seen much in her still budding life. Some, delightful, others disturbing, and a few she couldn’t fathom. She was fairly sure she had stumbled upon the last type, that much she knew.

Let’s review the facts, shall we? One, she had emerged onto the main platform to drop off a few golden eggs into the basket and head down a nearby platform, only to run into the unknown person. They were already wearing some kind of hazard suit, mind you, which was odd enough. But then, she witnessed them destroy a Scrapper. 

Not an odd occurrence, but it was how the person did it. Not by flanking it to take out the driver, or inking the scrap vehicle to damage it.

Rather, they took the more… direct route of shooting the front with their charger-like weapon. Instead of simply incapacitating the vehicle, it outright destroyed it.

Like a snap. 

One moment, it was approaching them. The next, a crack, and an explosion of golden eggs and Salmonid ink. While Rio wasn’t the biggest weapon aficionado out there (that was Marius’s pastime), she was fairly certain that regular weapons weren’t supposed to do that. Was it one of Mr. Grizz’s special chargers?

And while that was a strange- no, an insane event, a Stinger was about to prove it to be an inconsequential one. It had risen out of the waves, salmonid sniper on top scanning for a target. And it found one in the stranger. Like any Stinger that had come before it, it built up a massive pressure well of ink, and-

Shing!

Ordinarily, a Stingray beam was enough to eviscerate Inkling and Octoling alike, and in a few very unfortunate cases, many other species. But this one wasn’t wearing a life preserver, and she had a feeling that they weren’t linked to the emergency respawn pad onboard the ship. She shouted a warning to the person, but as they turned to her, the beam struck the individual full force.

They were slammed onto the ramp, pinned, mere meters from her. Being so close, she could hear the alien gasps and shrieks of pain, muffled by the mask and the Stingray’s ambient scream. Despite the traumatic scene, a part of her mind noted that the Stingray beam wasn’t emerging from their back.

That… wasn’t normal.

She ran to pull him from the beam’s path, but cringed back as she almost came in contact with the Stingray. Just as she reached out again, the Stingray Beam suddenly ceased. Even with it gone, her ears fiercely rung. 

She staggered to the ramp edge, looking down below. A notable lack of the Stinger, and a noticeable addition of Celia and orange. 

One last, long pitched foghorn blast rolled across the tower. And just like that, the wave was over.

Thank Cod.

~~~

They had regrouped near the basket to tend to their wounds.

“And you’re saying that they,” Celia said, gesturing to the stranger, “managed to survive a Stingray shot? They also survived a Maw attack! And don’t any of you help them until we sort this out!” 

“And why?” Marius dryly asked, “That doesn’t seem too kind. And you always stress about kindness.” He shot her a smarmy grin.

“Because… look at them!” Celia huffed, “Rio, tell us!”

“Yeah, they survived a shot! It was crazy! It went like “shiiiiiiiing!” and that person was pressed up against the ground and everything, you had to be there!” Rio recounted enthusiastically, “I’ve never seen anything like it!”

“And you’re… ok with that?” Vista tepidly said, “I imagine you’d be a bit more… freaked out. I mean, if what you say is true, I sure am.” She had only gotten a few short glances at them. 

Just who was under that plastic wrapping?

“I mean…” Rio made a circling gesture, “well… they didn’t try to splat me, and they seem to hate the Salmonids, so I... think they may be on our side?”

“And you were concerned about them splatting you… why?” Marius asked.

“You know why, Marius,” Rio replied, “I’m more surprised you aren’t scared. You remember that one time.”

“It was just one time! I don’t think that it would happen again.”

“We’re getting off topic! And judging by those glowflies…” Celia said.. The yellow hue and bodies of the glowflies were all around them; it was easy enough to see, especially in the dusk. “We’re probably in for a Chum Rush.”

“Oh… oh boy,” Vista mumbled, “I’m up front, right?” She hefted her splat roller.

“Yep, and Marius in the back. Rio and I will cover you.” She supposed it was best that it was just a Rush; a Griller ambush would have been much worse. “Speaking of… look alive, cephalopods.”

The sea had begun to churn near the island once again. Many, many chums (the regular, base salmonid, for the uninitiated) were emerging from the waters, eyes blood red. Charging in an insane rage, they climbed their way up the site.

Vista whimpered, but brought down her roller, gaining a running start down the ramp. She hit the horde head on, running over the rioting chums. But as she would roll down one, three would pop up to take their place.

Celia stood behind her, further suppressing the oncoming horde, but also to support Vista. As much as she hated to admit it, the girl was still wet behind the ears when it came to the art of the Salmon Run. Facing down the frenzied hordes with nothing but a roller could be quite intimidating, and a lapse in concentration could lead to her being splatted.

Marius and Rio, on the other hand, were struggling more than a little. Rio was doing fine; she was in her element with the dualies. The real issue was with Marius; while the Bamboozler was great (in the few hands that could use it properly) for turf wars and single target takedown, handling swarms was not one of its strengths. She supposed it was better than a regular charger, or Cod forbid, an E-Liter, but he was still struggling. Still, they kept the mob back.

Her head caught a glint amongst the crowd… Goldie! 

A well aimed Splat Bomb took it down, releasing its Golden Egg Payload. Without time to waste, she leapt over Vista’s Roller, firing her Splattershot the whole time. Nimbly moving, she snatched a few of the eggs, one in her carrying net, and a few others in her arms. Technically against standard regulation, but this was far from a standard shift.

“Hold on ” She shouted to Vista, who grimly nodded . More and more chums went “splat!” against her roller while Celia ran to the basket. She threw the eggs in, but paused when she saw the stranger. 

How did they get up here?

They had gotten up back onto their unsteady feet, still clutching their odd charger. While she couldn’t tell, it looked as if they were perturbed by the glowflies buzzing around all of them. 

Every single one had quickly converged on the stranger, practically covering every inch of them. Wha-

Vista suddenly shrieked, having run out of ink. The Chum horde ran over her, splatting her into her life preserver, while the mass rushed forward to the stranger, splatting Rio and Marius in the process. Before she could even start firing, the rush reached the stranger, barely missing her.

Another shriek erupted from the stranger as they fired their charger into the Salmonid mass; a crack!, followed by several chums being reduced to ink.

It wasn’t enough, even with Celia’s help.

They swarmed the stranger, pulling them to the ground. While some were content to beat upon them with their frying pans, others jumped up to restrain them. 

She threw another splat bomb at the group with a backup of rapid ink fire. She swore that the stranger was screaming for help in whatever odd tongue they spoke, even if they sounded horrible.

The bomb went off, clearing the horde off of them. As a precaution, she threw another bomb at Vista’s preserver, reviving her.

“Get out there! Revive the others!” Celia shouted. Vista, exhaling a shaky breath, brought her roller back down to block the chums. While Vista did so, Celia gave a quick glance to the stranger. 

They’re… they’re still alive!?

Splayed on the ground, covered in green ink, yet alive, judging by the rise and fall of their chest. And… they weren’t quite moving well, either. She brought a gloved hand to her forehead… 

They didn’t have time for this. As much as it pained her, she rejoined Vista. They really couldn’t afford to fail this shift.

~~~

“Are they going to be ok?” Rio asked, concern evident in her tone. The four were staring down at the prone form of the stranger. The swarm had finally abated, giving them a bit of breathing time before the final wave.

“You mean, ‘is he’ going to be ok?” Marius said, joining Vista in propping him up against the basket.

“He?” Rio replied, “How do you figure that? They could be anyone under all of that.” She gestured to the suit.

“He sounds like a guy. You heard him screaming bloody murder too. Tell me he didn’t sound male.” Marius countered. The stranger was finally up against the wall. “Kind of looks like one too.”

“I suppose…” Rio mumbled, “Though what’s with their voice?”

“With ‘his’ voice. Perhaps it’s just a throat injury or something else. No need to assume stuff.” Marius said, running his hands over the stranger’s mask.

“But… you’re assuming they’re a guy just on their voice,” Celia butted in, “hypocrite.”

“She has you there. Hypocrite,” Vista jabbed, smirk on her face, though it quickly morphed into a look of concern while she looked over the stranger. “Do you think they’ll be ok?”

“I think so?” Celia shrugged, standing straight, “They didn’t splat from all those Chums beating them senseless. Do you think they’re invincible?”

“Well, not invincible,” Marius said, “Because just look at him!” Despite the situation, he let out a small chuckle, “He’s going to be feeling this tomorrow.” 

“Uh… guys?” Rio muttered, staring off into the horizon.

“But still, do you get my point?” Celia asked, ignoring Rio, “It’s like they're using some sort of permanent Bubbler shield or something. How else would you survive a Stingray Shot?”

“Guys?” Rio asked, a bit louder, but still went ignored.

“Equally though, it wasn’t total invulnerability. I mean, look at him! Tell me he isn’t injur-”

“GUYS!” Rio shouted, finally catching their attention. She was pointing at a turbulent portion of the sea, a large menace slowly rising from the depths. 

“MOTHERSHIP!”

~~~

He… he was done. He was done.

Reality had clearly broken down. Terrors from the deep, mutants running about, and now a goddamn ship crate floating high above them. Who the hell would take expensive and largely experimental pulse systems and slap it into an oversized, plastic crate? It just… it defied explanation.

And as if to rub the insanity into his face, little mutant chinooks floated down from it courtesy of their tiny propeller beanies. They carried white coolers, and when placed down, spawned more of the terrors. 

Nope, nope, nope nope nope. 

It was as absurd as it was terrifying.

He was exhausted. He was hungry. He was thirsty, his head was killing him. His body had been battered, bruised, and he was fairly sure he had a concussion now from all those frying pans, and that floating crate was mocking him. 

It was mocking him, and he was taking that thing down, even if it killed him. It was the antithesis of the utter insanity surrounding him.

Of its own volition, his hand went to his rifle’s side, fidgeting with a knob. In response, the almost imperceptible, resting hum of the mag rifle pitched to a high whine.

Kneeling… aim… he fought back the headache’s pains. And… 

CRACK!

The slug punched through the ship, throwing it back slightly. Smoke plumed from the modest hole, metal grinding against plastic. Bubbly shouts from the others, anger and fear evident in the tone. 

Not the time.

Chamber another round, recharge… CRACK!

Again!

CRACK!

CRACK!

Fall!

CRACK!

Adrenaline flooded through his body, giving him one final burst of energy. The others were screaming. He was screaming. His rifle was breaking. He didn’t care. It was that ship or him, and he had a job to do.

The ship, now riddled with holes, sparked and hiss, tilting dangerously to one side, but was still airborne. 

That couldn’t stand now, could it?

CRACK!

~~~

Perhaps gawking at the stranger’s destructive antics was the wrong idea. Though granted, it was quite the show, or that’s at least what Marius thought. It wasn’t every day you saw a Mothership having more holes than sea cheese, or the fact that it was inflicted by a mysterious person with a wholly unknown weapon. Seriously, even Mr. Grizz’s suped up Bamboozler had nothing on it. He had to get his hands on that weapon at some point, regardless. Whatever that charger shot was punching through the Mothership like it was made from paper. 

But, because of his utter fascination with the weapon (and his friends’ utter horror), they stood slack-jawed at the display. Unfortunately, that had the effect of letting the Salmonid Chinooks place their payloads. And now, they were positively swarmed with Salmonids. Even with all four of them spraying as much ink as they could to counter, the swarm had reached a critical mass. They could hold back the tide, so to speak, but only hold them back. 

They couldn’t get to the spawn coolers, and the damage the stranger did to the Mothership only agitated the chinooks to work quicker. When one cooler was destroyed, another took its place almost immediately. A verifiable standstill. And to make matters worse, the Mothership was beginning its approach to sap the golden eggs they’d collected.

A small hum, followed by another imposing crack! Another hole in the Mothership.

...He was going to get his hands on that thing, even if it killed him. Oh, how he was going to cherish it.

The final shot hit the Mothership true. A small explosion ripped away much of its outering casing, exposing its delicate innards to the world. A larger explosion from the insides, finally causing it to list downwards… towards the platform they were on. The stranger let out another one of their raspy screams, diving to the side of the falling ship. 

The other three, mute horror written across their faces, looked away from the Salmonids, instead gaping at the falling wreck. The Salmonids stopped their assault as well, watching what was once their proud Mothership fall from the sky.

It squarely impacted the platform, the burning wreckage collapsing in on itself. The Salmonids fled back into the sea, and near the wreckage itself was scattered with Golden Eggs. Positively swimming.

...

...This shift wasn’t entirely bad after all. And with the four of them scooping up eggs into the collection basket, he imagined Celia, Rio, and Vista would agree. Maybe. He had the feeling they were still partially shell shocked. Shell, he almost felt the same, if not for all the Golden Eggs and his utter fascination with the stranger’s charger.

“Come on guys!” Marius shouted, “These eggs won’t collect themselves!” He had begun scooping them up by the armfuls to fling them into the basket. Gawking at the broken Mothership was one thing; failing a shift was a whole ‘nother kettle of fish.

“Oh… yeah, right,” Vista mumbled, haphazardly throwing eggs into the basket as well, followed by Rio and Celia.

This shift had its ups and downs, but he had to say, it all worked out in the end. Well, for himself at least. The others probably held a more negative view of the outcome, and the stranger…

They were down on the ground on all their hands and knees. One hand still clutched that charger of theirs.

...Yeah, he was fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Allow me to apologize for taking so long to upload this chapter. I wasn't happy with how it turned out initially, so I rewrote the whole chapter mostly from scratch. It was an interesting experience writing these “fight” scenes.
> 
> It would also be worth mentioning that in this story, I’ll be going off the assumption that humans and inklings/octolings are about the same size in this story. I've seen the scale fluctuate based on who's writing, and with no one canonical answer, figured I would just clear that up.
> 
> Speaking of, do you think I did an alright job of our protagonists finally meeting? It's something I really hope was not botched.
> 
> With this chapter out of the way, the story should finally begin picking up. I'm really looking forward to writing what comes next, and I hope you are as well. Thank you for reading, as well as your kind words. I really appreciate it!


	4. Chapter 4

The aftermath of Salmon Run was always a dull, if welcome affair. Beaten and battered crews had the chance to recuperate and rest while on their way back to Inkopolis. A chance to shed their stress. It was a normal ritual for employees of Mr. Grizz, both newbies and Profreshional. Under ordinary circumstances, business as usual.

Suffice to say, the current circumstances were not ordinary; not by any definition of the phrase. 

The four workers were back on the boat and huddled under the deck. While technically a space to rest, the hollowed area was cramped, filled with nets, spare equipment, and the smell of salted metal. Some of the clutter had been cleared out near the back, allowing a bit of space for the crews.

Marius, Rio, Vista, and Celia were huddled around an old dinosaur of a computer. Mr. Grizz was an avid follower of the phrase, “if it ain't broke, don’t fix it”, and thus saw no problem was his employees using such old hardware. Despite its age and exposure to the elements, it still worked somewhat well.

Or rather, it usually did, because the number plastered on the outdated UI surely was an error. 

Or… perhaps not.

“Yep...” Marius nodded, tapping the side of the old monitor, “Three hundred and seven golden eggs… and I think we broke the power egg counter. This may be a new record.”

A low whistle came from Celia, “We are so going to hit a payday with this.”

Rio nodded, her mind swimming with the possibilities. If nothing else, they would have quite the nice cash boost to ride off of, maybe even for a few weeks if they played their cards right. Though if that meant subsisting on more rice and beans… it may not be worth it… but still...

“Three hundred and seven golden eggs… “ A giant grin was plastered across Vista’s face, “That’s something to be proud of.”

“Granted, most of them came from the Mothership,” Marius stated, “...I still can’t quite believe that happened.” 

He ran a free hand over the Stranger’s charger, which he hadn’t let out of his sight since the shift had ended. Its owner had collapsed at the end of the shift, and as a result, it had taken all four of them and an inflatable dinghy meant for emergencies only to get them to the ship. 

Thus, the Stranger was propped up against the hull under the deck, while the boat safely made its way back to Inkopolis. Marius had swiped their charger as soon as they were secure. Even if it’s plastic covering had cracked, he still held onto it.

“Me neither. I mean, has a Mothership ever been destroyed before?” Rio questioned, “That has to have happened at some point.”

“No, actually,” Celia said, ”They’ve been damaged to the point of retreat, but one has never been destroyed like that,” she glanced at the charger, “Until now. Speaking of… Marius, what have you found out about that thing?”

Marius picked it up from his side, “Not much. I can’t find anywhere to connect an ink tank to it, but… I don’t think it was firing ink,” he pulled a small section from the bottom of the charger.

“This part comes off, but when I do take it out, the whole charger seems to… well, I’m not sure. Power down maybe?” he shook his head.

“This weapon is something else entirely.” In the quiet of the cabin, the statement reverberated with ominous reverence.

Vista was the first to break it. 

“Power down? What’s that supposed to mean? Is it a powered weapon? Like a Dynamo Roller or Explosher?”

“Vista, if you don’t know, I sure don’t!” he replied, “You’re the powered weapons expert here.”

Rio butted in, “Guys! Why don’t we all calm down here?

Marius rolled his eyes, but softened up, “To be honest… Well… I don’t quite know,” he admitted, lightly rolling the charger in his hand, “There’s a small little light on the side of it that flickers off whenever I remove it, as well as some sparks. It’s probably just an external battery, but it’s quite the odd design.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard of a powered charger,” Celia added. 

“Technically, an E-Liter is powered, but that’s semantics,” Vista admitted, “That’s besides the point though. Could I see the battery?” 

Vista turned it over in her hands, examining it critically. Everyone waited with bated breath for her verdict.

“...I think this is a magazine,” She at last said, softly, eyes glued to it.

“A magazine?” Celia asked, “That doesn’t look like one… are pages in there?”

“No, no! Not something you read. Look… it’s… well… but why would that charger use one...?” Vista mused, walking slightly in place.

“Vista, what the shell are you talking about?” Marius quipped.

“It’s…” She reached an ungloved hand into it, pulling out a tiny bit of metal. Everyone craned closer to take a look. “This is a piece of ammunition. It’s a, well… discarded Octarian weapon theory.”

“Ammunition? What are you-” Celia started, but was cut off by Rio, “How does that work?”

“Well… it’s kind of like...” Vista stuttered, but clutched an explanation, “You know how a charger inflicts most of its harm, right?” Marius nodded, but Rio and Celia shook their heads.

“Ok. Well, most of the real injuries from a charger shot are caused by the kinetic force of the shot. Only a small amount of ink actually hits the target, but since it’s at such a high velocity, the ink can easily splat someone. I can only presume the same is happening with this....” She brought a tiny metal piece up, clutched by her thumb and pointer finger.

“So what you’re saying is…?” Celia trailed off, still not quite grasping what Vista was saying.

“Somehow, that charger is accelerating this bit of metal to extreme speeds, and judging by the crack after each discharge, supersonic ones, at the very least. And because all that force is in such a small area…” She shuddered slightly, “We all saw what happened.”

“So why isn’t this being used by the Octarians?” Rio asked, fear creeping into her voice, “This could be serious!”

“Because,” Vista sighed, “They never found out how to make it viable. It was just a weapon’s theory. There were a few attempts with every method they could think of; water pressure, air pressure, springs, the like, but no real solution was found.” 

She took a quick breath, “I know there were a few successes, but they proved to be too impractical for mass use, especially compared to regular ink weapons.”

“So you’re saying…” Rio edged.

“It was just a pipe dream. There’s a reason they declassified the efforts.” She shrugged, giving the charger a look. 

Such a simple and plain looking thing...

“...But whoever made this charger figured out how to do it,” Marius said quietly.

After a long moment of silence, Celia finally broke it, “...We need to find out who they are.” No one responded, but they all nodded.

Rio went first, running her hands over the odd, gray plastic that made up the Stranger’s suit. It hadn’t torn at all, yet it was nowhere near as thick as their overalls. 

Durable enough to withstand a stingray beam, yet malleable as her own clothing…

“I don’t see a zipper at all on this thing.” She finally said.

“Turn him on his back?” Marius suggested.

A bit of awkward positioning was all it took, but the effort proved fruitless. Like their front, there wasn’t any obvious way to get the plastic off. One long seam, running from the neck to the posterior was evident, but nothing they did could get it open. It remained stuck, as if the person within had been sewn permanently within.

“Hm… any ideas Vista?” Celia asked, but didn’t receive a response. 

Rather than standing at attention, Vista was going through the Stranger’s odd backpack, which thankfully, did open.

“Vista!” Celia said, voice raised. Vista flinched, but didn’t stop digging through it.

“Forget about them, Celia! Look at all of this!” She had already fished out what was presumably another set of the Stranger’s clothes; a rather formal attire, if she were honest. A wooden, framed picture came out next, as well as a sheathe of official looking papers.

Rio cautiously picked up the picture, running a thumb over the glass. A few cracks ran through the glass, but it was mostly intact. The picture itself was of an assembly of Inklings (or Octolings, she couldn’t tell). About twenty, by her count. She couldn’t quite make out their features (they were too far away from the camera), but something felt… off, about them. She couldn’t put her finger on why; something about their faces?

“You have to take a look at this Marius. Can you make any sense of this?” She asked, handing the frame off to him.

Vista continued rooting through the backpack, scattering more of its contents over the floor. A few small metal canisters, odd pieces that barely reassembled batteries, and plenty of electrical refuse and guts. Many had been spread out over the floor, surrounding Vista like a spread offering.

Rio grabbed another object, the paper sheathe. Rifling through it revealed it to be a messwork of official looking documents. Official in how they looked, though the language they were written in was indecipherable. She’d seen nothing like it.

“...Something about this picture is off.” Marius said, having finished looking over it, “I don’t know what, but it’s giving me a bad vibe.”

Meanwhile, Celia was crouched by the side of the Stranger. She was holding an older knife, no doubt salvaged from the junk, and was trying to cut through the Stranger's suit. Several dark mutterings came from her as she tried to do so.

“Vista!” Celia barked, “Come over here.”

Vista extricated herself from the mess of possessions, quickly joining Celia’s side.

“This is plastic, right?” A nod, “Then why won’t it cut?”

“What?” Vista asked, “Why wouldn’t it cut?”

“Just look.” She had grabbed a handful of the slack material to stab through, but the point of the knife could only stretch it taut. Even with all the strength Celia put behind the knife, it wouldn’t pierce.

“...I’ve never seen anything like this…” Vista muttered, “I’d wager this is why they didn’t splat. Completely inktight, by my reckoning.” She ran a finger over the plastic layer, “They’re just achieving impossibility after impossibility, it seems.”

“No kidding.”

Rio turned back, appraising the rest of the stuff with a critical eye. Tools, tools, more of those little metal bits, what looked like batteries… and that formal clothing of course. By Cod, she felt choked just looking at it. It was like something her dad would wear, more restrictive than a straight-jacket.

...It also looked like there was something in the pocket of the trousers. Fishing it out revealed it to be a phone of some kind, if the cracked, glossy screen was any indication. Though it was a boring old rectangle, opposed to the more fresh squid or octopus design that was all the rage. Definitely very well used too, judging by how much of the dull red had been chipped off the cracked case.

Turning on the phone, she was greeted with the bright glow of a familiar interface, yet entirely alien to her. The lock screen was overlaid by a myriad of symbols that were so familiar, yet as impossible as the writing on those papers. 

And that was where she hit a brick wall. She had typed in a few different She tapped around a bit, and after a bit of fiddling, realized she could bring up a small keypad of buttons by swiping the screen.combinations, but nothing would work. After her last attempt, the screen locked out. Carp.

“Any luck?” Vista asked. She had gone back to sorting through the Stranger’s backpack, though about everything had been taken out.

“Nah, it has some kind of password, or passcode, or something.” Rio replied, giving the worn phone another look.

“Mind if I try?”

“Sure.” Thus, the phone was tossed.

Vista promptly began working on the phone, biting her bottom lip as she did so.

“...I can’t get in either.” Vista said, “Though I swear, I’ve seen this language somewhere.”

“The documents?” Rio suggested helpfully.

“No, not those. I mean, from somewhere else… it’s…” She sighed, bringing a hand to her forehead.

“Something wrong?” Rio asked.

“No, no… I just need to check on something later.” Vista said, giving a slight nod.

“Hey, guys!” Marius nearly shouted, “I think I figured this thing out a little!” he hefted the Stranger’s charger, now humming and sparking slightly.

“Let me guess; you put that thing you detached back in?” Celia quipped, giving him a stink eye.

“No! Not just that, look at this!” He brought the charger closer, “I found this little screen that flips out from this side-” true to his word, a little screen stood out perpendicular from the main charger body, close to the trigger. “I don’t know what it means, but it’s a start.”

“A screen? Who would put something like that on a charger?” Rio questioned, “Any ideas?”

“Mind if I take a look?” Vista asked. The charger was handed to her a second later. She took a close look at the screen, then a small, protruding nob on the other side of the weapon. On a hunch, she pulled it back then let it slide back into place, giving off a satisfying grind of metal. A figure on the screen flickered from the action,

“...I think this is a diagnostic screen,” Vista started, “if I had to guess, it probably monitors the systems in this thing.” She noticed one symbol in particular; a small red triangle with an odd “!” in the center, positioned in the top right corner. It was blinking rapidly, drawing the eye.

“And it needs that, why…?” Celia trailed off.

“I have no idea,” Vista shrugged, “The very existence of this charger defies logic. For cod’s sake, it uses solid ammunition Celia! Solid ammunition! I can’t even fathom how it’s doing that!” She growled in frustration, tossing the heavy charger back to Marius, rather than handing it over.

Unfortunately, Marius wasn’t prepared for the throw. He fumbled the catch, dropping the charger on accident. It hit the ground with a dull clunk, landing on its stock. 

Marius’s face went pale.

“Why would you-!”

Crack!

~~~

Have you ever woke up in a rush of panic? Peacefully sleeping one moment; the next, you’re wide awake, the normal lethargy overridden by adrenaline? 

It was with this same energy that the Stranger awoke with. Even with the shutdown his body forced upon him, the discharge of his weapon had been enough to reawaken him.

Unlike from when he had woken from cryo, his mind was anything but peaceful. He shot up to his feet, eyes darting about. He had been laying on the floor in a dark dingy room, the only illumination coming from a few dim bulbs hung from the ceiling. It was overcrowded with miscellaneous… equipment of some sort.

And around him were the four from earlier, all cringing on the floor, hands over their pointed ears. They were shouting out in that bubbly language of theirs. 

Was… that crack from his…?

Did they really...

Oh lord, they did fire it.

Why the hell would they think that was a good idea? Barring the obvious riff of firing a gun indoors, the amplification of the iconic “crack!” of a gauss weapon could easily deafen anyone who was in here. That would explain the ringing in his ears.

And that he was awake, he supposed.

The rifle itself was lying near the male one. He must have been the one to pull the trigger.

Idiot.

He scooped it up. Various cracks now criss-crossed it’s otherwise smooth surface, and there were a few small sparks emanating from the barrel as well. Had it been crushed, or…?

...Oh, right. He remembered firing it repeatedly, one shot after another, at that behemoth of an UFO. The nonstop stress on the components, and the beating it invariably took more than likely did this. Having upped the power usage for his, ahem, meltdown certainly didn’t help.

And of course he didn’t bring any replacement parts. Stupid, stupid.

A quick sweep also revealed his backpack, which had obviously been rifled through. 

It only took a moment to shovel everything back into it. It was a tad concerning to think that they had gone through his only possessions… but, if the roles were reversed, he would have done the same. He couldn’t particularly blame them.

Everything in tow, he climbed out of the room via a small ladder in the back. Up to the-

He was on a boat. The same boat he had seen on that island. How did he…?

That train of thought ran itself into the ground.

“Oh…” he mumbled to himself, taking in the sights. Night had properly come, the only light coming from a waxing, crescent moon. It was… kind of beautiful, especially to the moon, but the stars were blotted out by the city’s light pollution. A depressing, dull hue that hung over the sky like an infection.

Of course, that meant the city was much closer, so… silver lining? He would have preferred the unmolested night sky.

Still, he was thankful to be so close to civilization. He really didn’t need a repeat of… everything that happened the past few hours.

He walked to the boat’s side, the one facing the city. At the railing, his body sagged against it. It wasn’t broken, per say, but he was hurting all over. An ERA was meant for environmental protection, not for whatever happened on that island. It protected him well enough from that green ink, but not those frying pans.

Damn frying pans…

It was all behind now, though.

...

He didn’t remember how long he stood against the railing, looking out onto the city that slowly came closer. By then, the pain had diminished from a shrill scream to a dull roar. Metaphorically, of course. His… everything ached something fierce, his chest especially. 

Ugh...

Still… he slumped back over the railing. What he wouldn’t give to even have some painkillers, much less a hospital room. But even such simple medicine felt out of reach. 

Who was he kidding? They were quite literally out of reach. Even when they reached the city.

The truth of his situation hadn’t quite sunk in previously, but he began to feel the full weight bear down upon him. 

He was cut off from Polaris. He wasn’t even sure where it was anymore; the metallic island was nowhere in sight, and he couldn’t even remember where the entrance was located underwater. 

How the hell was he going to get back there?!

That was an issue, but his mind couldn’t help but prickle painfully at the thought of the others. While he was above ground and awake, they were still entombed underground, frozen in time. It was a terrifying thought, but one infused with guilt. Why was he the one who was lucky to escape? And he just went and lost them!

...He needed to get back there as soon as possible. The alternatives… he didn’t want to think about it.

He was shut out from the others, and now trapped with these pseudo-humans. And if these beings even existed in the first place…

...Did they exist in the past? For all he knew, the cryonics may have fried his memory.

He wracked his mind, trying to remember… his family he could remember, blurry as they were. His roommate from college. Friends, colleagues… yes, he remembered them. His name…?

He felt a spike of panic when he couldn’t recall it immediately. What was it!?

…

It just gave him a headache...

Yeah… he was sure these creatures were new.

They just had to shatter his immediate hopes. Leave him stranded with pain and anguish, both physical and mental.

Damn them!

…No. 

It wasn’t their fault. They were the ones who had to shatter the illusion of triumph he held, but they could have been anyone. Still though, if they existed, and by extension those fishy freaks, the chances of humanity still being around fell significantly. Especially since they spoke an entirely un… human language. 

Yes, un-human. Those sounds were entirely unnatural.

It was a horrible feeling. A wriggling, churning fear and confusion that refused to abate itself. Even in his mentally dull state, it was sharp as an electric knife. His grip on the edge tightened.

Toto, I don’t think we’re in Kansas anymore...

~~~

“Alright… so, what should we do?” Celia asked, hushed. The four were on deck, taking refuge on the stairs and hiding behind the small control cabin.

“Hide?” Marius asked, somewhat snarky, “He has his charger back, and I don’t think he took too kindly to us rummaging through his stuff.”

“If they did, they probably would have already tried something.” Celia shot back. “...there wasn’t anything we could have done.” She unconsciously rubbed her right ear, muttering, “I swear, if I get tinnitus from that…”

“...That aside, I could just knock them out” Vista said, “Just… you know, sneak up on them, and then…” she mimed slamming down an imaginary roller, “That would probably work.”

“Last resort.” Celia replied. “Regardless, we need to do something. Any ideas Rio?”

“Um… I like Marius’s idea,” she stammered.

“And you don’t want to be their friend?” Celia asked, somewhat mockingly, “So unlike you.”

Rio blushed, eyes downward.

“Oh, lay off her!” Marius hissed, “Take this seriously!”

Celia rolled her eyes, “I am! Listen, I don’t think they’re an enemy. Just… someone walk up and say hi. Not like anything bad will happen...” 

“Harmle- are you insane?” Vista muttered intensely, “I have a few hunches about who they could be, and none of them paint a good picture.” Her roller was clutched in a vice grip, “Were you watching during the shift?”

“Listen, I was! Vista, just trust me on this one here.” Celia placated, “If they really were going to do something, they would’ve after their charger went off.”

“No, you trust me!” Vista shouted, “That person could be…! Someone...” She trailed off, realizing that she had devolved to shouting. 

Whoops...

The stranger had turned from the railing to look at the cabin, and by extension, the figures hiding behind it. Thankfully, they were just staring, rather than pointing their charger at them. It was a variable stalemate. 

...

They turned back to stare over the edge.

“Looks like it’s up to you,” Marius said, elbowing Celia slightly, “Why don’t you go say hi?” A small, smarmy smile was on his lips.

“Oh, shut it,” She muttered to him. Still, he was right, in a sense. Someone had to confront them. It was either that, or hide below deck until they made it back to the dock. And… that particular thought wasn’t a happy one.

She sighed, but slowly stepped out, and began walking.

It didn’t take long for the stranger to spot her. At the sight of her, they looked back up from their railing, shifting slightly. Any words that sprung to mind died in her throat.

They stood in a minor standstill, until the Stranger called out something entirely incomprehensible. They all cringed at clearly hearing their voice properly. It was tenor, unfathomably sore, like metal on sandpaper, not to mention speaking a wholly rough tongue. Each syllable was oddly punctuated, unlike their own flowing speech.

At the very least, Celia figured the Stranger was male. That was a male voice, even with how mangled it was.

“Oh… oh carp,” Celia muttered, swallowing in fear. Despite her previous thoughts (and talk), the voice was entirely alien. It threw her off guard; it couldn’t have belonged to any cephalopod. But that begged the question of what this person was.   
Regardless, she had to say something, anything.

“Um… hi.”

Very inspired.

“UuHmhM… hhYei?” The Stranger said, obviously trying to repeat her, but failing horribly. 

Where to start? His inflection was off, mistimed syllables, strange accent, she could go on and on. But that dry quality of his made the words almost unrecognizable, not to mention how horribly he said them. 

He went away from the railing, taking a step to her, then another. Though Celia supposed steps was a generous descriptor. It was more of him limping. She couldn’t help but wince at the display. 

Was he concussed? It could explain some things.

She matched his steps, taking a few forward. Unlike the Stranger, however, she remained poised, dignified, carefully measuring her steps and keeping her back straight. In a sense, this was their first proper introduction. And whoever he may be, they may as well try to start off on a good foot.

Both stood only mere feet from each other. Confidently, she held out a hand…

C’mon, take it...

...Which he took with a bit of trepidation. His grip was surprisingly strong, even if it was equally as shaky. The handshake was short lived, as he quickly wretched his hand away, backing up slightly. 

Celia did as well, returning to the other three. The Stranger had returned to his spot at the bow, staring back at Inkopolis.

...

“So,” Celia finally said, clapping her hands together, “That… went well?”

Marius shrugged, “I guess? ...I don’t know. Language barrier aside, of course. What was he speaking, actually?”

Vista shook her head, “Whatever they spoke, it wasn’t Aquatic.”

“Him, Vista,” Celia said, “I’m fairly certain he’s a guy.”

“I knew it!” Marius shouted, though it was cut off with a punch from Celia, finger over her lips.

“Look… I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m heading down now to rest a bit.” Vista said, “I’m really not looking forward to explaining this to Mr. Grizz.” 

“I… have to agree with you,” Celia said, tiredly, “I’ll join you.”

“Well…” Rio mumbled, “I think I’ll stay up here, if that’s fine.”

“Suit yourself. Marius?” Celia said.

“Nah.”

Vista huffed, “Enjoy the fresh air.” The two quickly descended back into the bowels of the ship.

Marius kept an eye on the two as they departed. They soon after were gone from sight.

“Ok Rio, why did you want to stay up here?”

Rio sighed, “It’s going to sound kind of stupid, but… well… look at him! Look… it’s a friend thing, ya know?”

“...Are you really letting what Celia said get to you that much?” Marius dubiously replied.

“Just let me have this, please!” 

“But, why though?”

She ignored him, instead walking over to where the Stranger was. With no fanfare or words, she plopped down by him, similarly leaning against the railing. He didn’t seem to mind.

Marius couldn’t help but shake his head. Sometimes, he just couldn’t understand her.

~~~

...Yeah. it was nice to have some company.

Even if his company were two of those pseudo-humans. What they were still confused him to no end, and he had the feeling he wouldn’t be getting any answers.

Up close to them, even in the dimming light, he could make out a few final features of theirs. The few bits of exposed skin on them looked rather moist, like it was perpetually wet. It was a translucent quality that made him squirm a bit. Like… a slug’s skin, except not. Pointy ears, as well. 

Clearly, their existence was meant to drive him mad. 

Damn fish-human elf hybrids.

Appearances aside, he was making progress, and every meter they travelled to the city, he was… getting… somewhere…? 

It was difficult enough to stay awake, he didn’t need any… complex thoughts on top of it. Just… stay awake until he can get somewhere safe to rest.

Still, still… he had his… friends(?)... by his side.

Curly, Braid. They were both absent, but what about the other two…?

Right, right… he hadn’t… nick-named them yet. Heh.

Well, there was that one female, the one with that wavy tentacle going down the side of her face. She kind of reminded him of a… hippie? Something about her expression, stance screamed it, even if she was pensive, tired all out.

...Tie-Dye felt weirdly appropriate. He felt that the unflattering overalls they wore only dulled her vibrant aura. He could almost see her aura. 

Or maybe he did have brain damage. His thoughts were already muddy.

Now that he thought about it, their overalls more resembled the equipment farmers used in Cranberry bogs. He could really go for some cranberry grape juice right now. Still though, why bright oran- 

Getting off topic again. He had a feeling Tie-Dye would really fit her, if they had any casual clothing at all.

And then the last one, the only guy in the group, standing awkwardly still by the cabin. Not being cool and all like Tie-Dye.

He couldn’t help but feel a twinge of pity for him; did he have any guy friends? Regardless, this male kind of… well… he had no idea what to use as a nickname. Boring hair (or tentacles), kind of gave off a solemn vibe… cripes, maybe even a bit emo… nah. 

Kind of like how he was at this kid’s age… how old were they, actually? They looked to be about… eighteen? Nineteen? Well, young adults, at the very least?

...Do they pupate?

-Getting off track again. What would be a good nickname... 

...Until he came up with a better one, he was just going to use Boring. Ha! What a freak!

...Yeah, there was his subconscious talking. Not much he could do, except sleep.

Sleep...

...He needed sleep. But he… need… awake…

His head fell into his crossed arms.

…

Zzz…

…

…

…

…

*bump

Huh?

…

Oh...

They had arrived.

The city, up close, was less than stellar. He blamed the distance for deceiving him. The skyline was impressive, majestic even, but it certainly hid the dark underbelly that were the docks. 

Several shorter, dirty buildings lined the pier, as well as several equally shoddy boats shackled to the shore. There was barely any light, save for a few barely functioning lamps lining the streets.

Unlit, dark, grimy, and stout. A supposed den of deceit and danger.

This potential mire was where he would find his salvation.

As much as he wanted to give in, go along with those pseudo humans, he just… couldn’t. He couldn’t trust them. If he were just a lone survivor, no strings attached to his psyche, he might have. But he wasn’t. There was too much that could be lost if he threw himself at their mercy. There was too much to risk.

The choice was easy. He needed to stay free, whatever the cost. And these docks proved to be the perfect escape.

It was funny, in a sense. An otherwise terrifying place granting him refuge. He couldn’t be scared of the dark if it protected him! Technically, he was the monster in the dark, right?

And all he had to do was wait for them to dock…

…

…

As soon as the boat brushed up against the dock, he acted.

He quickly vaulted over the side and landed unsteadily on his feet. He grunted in pain; despite his rest, he was still beaten and bruised. Only time would heal him, and time wasn’t something he had.

He limped his way from the thin, wooden dock to the stony pier proper. His legs were pained, but he managed. He needed to be quick; he didn’t know how long those four would be below deck, but he didn’t want to-

A squigly, soapy shout came from the boat. He had barely turned back to see, only for Tie-dye to vault from the boat onto the dock. Her eyes were drilled onto his form.

Plan B!

He ran, going along the waterline, Tie-dye close on his tail. One foot in front of the other, his weary legs burning from the exertion. His lungs were on fire, heart tearing, but he couldn’t stop. He could barely see in the dark, all of his concentration focused on not tripping.

Unfortunately, Tie-dye wouldn’t let up, and from one of his hurried glances behind him, he could see two other shadows running behind her. No doubt two of the others to help in her chase. And if they caught him…

Maybe it wouldn’t be too bad…

The thought almost made him stop, but he powered on. No, no! He was not going to risk what could very well be the most important charge of his life, just because he felt tired!

He couldn’t keep running forever, though. Even with his adrenaline high, he was already beginning to stumble and tire. And yet, they were still behind him, like a group of jackals chasing their prey. There had to be a-

“Woah!”

He had been running dangerously close to the edge of the pier, and his boot caught on an errant stone. And with how hard he had been listing…

He fell into the water with a large splash. 

…

“Rio, wait!” Marius shouted, panting. He and Vista had been running to catch up to Rio. She had stopped running, and was instead staring into the pier. The stranger was nowhere in sight.

They reached her a moment later, both huffing and wheezing. Rio ignored them, still staring into the water.

“...He fell in.” She muttered softly, eyes watching the ripples.

“What?” Vista asked, still bent over.

“I… Wait, hold on. I can still save him!” Rio shouted, “That thing he was wearing; surely it’s waterproof.”

“Save him? Ho-” Marius was cut off by Rio diving into the water.

“Rio!” He shouted, diving to catch her. Unfortunately, he missed, and fell into the water himself.

Vista could only stare where the two had fallen off. Slowly she approached the edge to look down.

Two life-preservers bobbed on the waves, a spirit bobbing within each one. A hand came to her forehead.

“You two are hopeless. You know that, right?”

Nothing came from the two life-preservers.

Vista sighed, “I’ll get a fishing pole.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before saying anything else, I'd like to give a huge thanks to Ancientdragonduelist. He was a huge help with editing and finalizing this chapter, and I feel this chapter is much better as a result. Speaking of, I forgot to mention earlier that Rio and Vista aren't two characters I created. They were created by a friend of mine named Starbrite, and I apologize for forgetting to mention that at an earlier point.  
> So...  
> I'm going to try and improve these authors' notes. Looking back, they've been rather stiff and off-putting, and as such, I'm hoping to change that. So... let's try this.  
> This chapter acts as a transition point for what I can only describe as the main story. And for the main story itself... I still need to finish planning it all out. Granted, I know how I want this story to continue, but I need to finish properly planning everything. I do have enough planned to continue writing for a while still, so it should not prove to be an issue. I'm also starting to notice a pattern of it taking about 2 months or so per chapter; I'll see if I can reduce that time, but I can't promise anything. Life is busy, and it does take a while to write these. I apologize for that.  
> Finally, I really appreciate all the kind words and feedback I've been receiving. It's extraordinarily satisfying to know that you all have been enjoying the story this far, and I hope to prove true to your expectations going forward. It's the motivation that keeps me going, and I'm very happy to say that we're just getting started here. I hope you decide to stick around for it, however long it may take.  
> Thanks for reading, and see you next time!


	5. Chapter 5

“I can’t believe it! Gwhaha, you four are some of the best employees I’ve ever had!”

Vista supposed that if there was one silver lining from that mess of a Salmon Run shift, they had set a new record for golden egg collection. Three-hundred and seven eggs, compared to the previous record of one hundred and seventy-seven. An amazing haul, by all metrics.

“We aim to please!” Marius bolted back, happy as a clam. 

Sometimes, she just wanted to punch him. How could he be so happy? Doesn’t he realize what they had done?

“Erhm… what I think he means is, ‘thank you’,” Celia said, putting an authoritarian hand on his shoulder. No doubt she was embarrassed by his antics, but then again, everyone was. 

Bombastic Chucklehead.

Still, it was Celia and Marius that did the talking for these types of things. She and Rio would usually change back into their everyday clothing during their whole spiel. This evening had been no different, and they had gotten back to catch the end of Mr. Grizz’s antics.

They had all agreed beforehand not to mention anything about the Stranger. Clearly, he wasn’t affiliated with Mr. Grizz, and with the former being the ruthless capitalist he was, would have a field day if he got his hands (or paws?) on any of his equipment. She did not want to be the one responsible for any more of those inkless chargers being created, or the knowledge that such weapons even existed, for that matter. 

It was another can of bait Inkopolis didn’t need opened.

And if any of her theories surrounding this mystery person were correct, her position here could become quite… worrisome. The last thing Inkopolis needed was a potential tragedy waiting to happen. 

The stranger may have been just one person, but who knew who he was affiliated with? Anyone armed and armored like him had to be up to something nefarious. 

Did their goal have something to do with the Salmonids, or perhaps he was actually a pawn of Mr. Grizz? Why else would he be at the Ruins of Ark Polaris? While she had only caught the last of Marius and Celia’s conversation with Mr. Grizz, he seemed surprisingly nonchalant about them breaking the highest golden egg haul by at least one hundred and fifty eggs. Or the crashed mothership, for the matter. 

Did he even know about that? 

How could he not? It was where they got most of the eggs in the first place. Mr. Grizz was many things, but a fool was not one of them.

Rio shook her shoulder, bringing her out of her thoughts. “Did you really space out?”

“Oh, I was just… thinking,” Vista answered, shaking her head slightly.

“I see…” Rio nodded sagely, “Well, while Celia and Marius are changing, did you want to grab our payment?”

“They’re done talking?” She looked around; Marius and Rio had vanished, and Mr. Grizz’s radio had gone silent.

“See?” Rio quipped, “Totally spaced out.”

Vista rolled her eyes, “Yeah, yeah. Let’s just see what we’ve been paid.” With that, Rio dragged her out into the cold air of the night. Fiddling with the kiosk built into the office’s front rewarded Vista several reward capsules, while Rio inserted a card into the machine, which beeped cheerfully after a second.

While Vista opened her various capsules, Rio checked her phone, and upon doing so, gasped. “Ohmygosh, one-hundred thousand coin! Holy shell, holy shell, holyshell!” She hopped from one foot to the other in excitement, “I have to tell the others!” 

She rushed back into the office, leaving Vista outside in the cold night.

Her own payment consisted of sixty-four thousand coin, alongside a few meal tickets (redeemable for over-fried fast food. Blegh), and a voucher for a pair of rain boots. She couldn’t help but smile at her bounty. Despite the… complications of the evening, this certainly was a sight for sore eyes. 

They were going to be fine for quite a while with this bounty.

Granted, she would have preferred the pure cash payments her friends got, but she wasn’t a full time worker yet. Still, she did need a new pair of boots, and a few free meals certainly wouldn’t hurt. Maybe she could trade them with Celia, or something.

She couldn’t help but feel a bit of apprehension over their gains. It had come at the cost of letting him escape. They should have kept a closer eye on him when they got back to the waterfront, but hindsight is a bag of barnacles. There were a lot of things she wished would have happened differently, but she supposed there wasn’t much point in doing so.

She knew what they would say, “Vista, don’t worry about it. I'm sure it was nothing. Just, please, stop obsessing! Let it go!” Shell, the last thing she needed was their carp.

She glanced nervously at the darkened street and alleys of the rundown district. He was out there somewhere. Watching, waiting…

~~~

“Y’know, I was thinking…”

Huh?

Why did everything feel so… surreal?

He looked over to his companion. She was sat against a lichen covered log, beer in hand. Her dirty blonde hair was in a neat ponytail, laid against the wood. Above them, the canopy of the thick forest blocked out the cloudy sky.

“Have you wondered what would happen if the world ever, y’know, ended?”

“There isn’t much to imagine,” was his answer. He was leaning back against his own log, taking a sip of his own alcohol. The taste was less than stellar, not helped by the lukewarm temperature.

“And by that you mean…?”

“Well, how do you think the world will end?”

“Oh… that’s a tricky one. Some super weapon being cooked up by the Rhodies? Bioweapon?”

“Oh come on, be creative!” he shot back, “We might as well have a bit of fun with this.”

“Oh fine,” her brows furrowed, “...infinitely reproducing nanites? An alien invasion? Killer fish swarms from the seas?”

That last one… it threw him off balance for whatever reason.

“That’s it? Surely you have some more?”

She sighed, “There’s another one, on the tip of my tongue…” 

He couldn’t see her face behind her cap, but obviously, a small smirk played across her lips.

“Nuclear annihilation?” he suggested, “Only real way I see us all dying.”

She shook her head, “...Nah. Let’s stick to realistic options, hm?”

“And nuclear annihilation isn’t realistic?”

She laughed, “Haven’t you seen the emplacements?”

“...Fair enough. But still. I mean, we could survive everything else. But mutually assured destruction? I don’t think we’d recover from that.”

He snorted, adding, “The only way we’ll see peace again, I reckon.”

The familiar stranger chuckled. She brought a hand to her mouth, trying to suppress her mirth. Soon, gales of laughter broke through her hands, “Amen to that!”

A hand came to his own mouth. Despite his best efforts, a small smile cracked through. The crack in his defenses soon split further, allowing laughter of his own to ring out as well. The two sat in that clear, howls of mirth echoing throughout, their shoulders shaking.

Eventually, though, the laughter petered out, leaving a comfortable silence.

What to talk about, what to talk about…

...Oh. Right.

“Listen… there was something I needed to tell you.”

“Hmm?” She grunted, sitting up straighter.

“Well… god, there isn’t any easy way to say this… but… I’ve been given an opportunity.”

“Oh? And that is…?”

“I’ve been offered a job with Polaris.”

“...”

“Listen, I know it’s a lot to take in, but… I really can’t turn this down! Would you turn down working for NASA… Um…”

He looked to her form.

...What was her name?

“...”

He nervously took another sip of his beer, tasteless to his tongue, “I’ll… well, get to actually leave here. Leave the country. See the world. I can’t refuse!”

She took a long sip of her beer, smacking her lips.

“I remember what I was going to say.”

“Eh?”

“About the whole ‘end of the world’ thing. What was on my tongue.”

“Oh… That’s good. What was it?”

“How about… I don’t know, a flood?”

The bottle he had been holding fell to the forest floor. A stab of emotion went through his heart, leaving a dull ache behind.

“P-pardon?”

She lifted her head, staring at him. Piercing blue eyes stared into his green. 

He… didn’t recognize her.

“I said, a flood, ████████.”

What was his name?

She stood up onto her feet.

“You don’t think it possible? A flood, swallowing up everything and everyone you care for?”

She slowly began to approach him.

“What’s wrong, ████████? Don’t want to think about it? How, in the end, despite our combined efforts, our so called mastery of the world, we fell to such a simple thing?”

She stood right in front of him. Her words carried a poisoned edge.

“And why were you, of all people, spared? What makes you deserving? What sets you apart from the rest? Do you want to know?”

He cringed back, heart beating out of his chest.

“You were lucky. You beat the odds. Out of billions of souls, you won the lottery. There’s nothing ‘special’ about you. You’re not preordained. The stars for your survival aligned, not because of destiny, but because of sheer, dumb, luck.”

“There’s no hope left for us.”

“Even now, you deny it. You’re living in a dream, ████████.”

“So…”

With impossible strength, she lifted him to his feet by his shirt collar. Her fist was cocked back.

“W̷̡͙̘̲͉͊̓͆ͅȀ̴̡̲͈̙͉̆̇̾͌͌͋̚͠K̵̢̟͈͕͚͍͍̖̖̜̯̱̃̋̊̈́̆̃̅͛̕͝Ė̴͕̻̯̖̞͓̖̃͛̇̈̏͂͗́̒̈́͘͝͝ ̷̧̠͇̳͕̹̯͔̓̀Ų̴̬̼͎̀͘P̵̯̖̜̞͔̘͓̎̈̌̔̕!”

He bolted upright, covered in cold sweat. He thrashed against the dark pressure surrounding him, but quickly, relaxsd. He floated to the watery floor, breathing heavily. The stress bled out of his mind.

Just a dream… Just a dream…

Already, the details were fading from his memory. He shook his head in confusion. 

Nightmares, man.

Regardless, why was he underwater?

Last night was a hectic blur. He remembered being chased, but blanked out beyond that.

Did he fall off of the waterfront?

...Had he really slept here all night?

That… would explain a lot of things. It would’ve shaken off his pursuers, and presumably he could sleep here undetected; oxygen recycling was simply divine.

He gently kicked off the bottom, swimming up to the surface. He broke through, kicking lightly to stay afloat. He emerged just next to a wooden dock jutting from the waterfront, the moon shining down on him.

He was still hungry and hurting, but it certainly was a refreshing sight.

Wait.

Night?

The moon didn’t lie. But… that would mean...

How long had he been asleep?

Definitely over his usual eight or nine hours of sleep. That would explain why he was feeling so, so much more energetic. Still hurt all over, though. And that nagging hunger and thirst. 

He swam to the dock, and found a point where he could pull himself up. It took a moment to get on, the residue water quickly falling off of the ERA. Benefits of modern technology and all. Amazing stuff, a collective effort. Too bad he couldn’t rely on that same webwork. Mainly because they were all… dead.

Oh… right. That… was still a thing.

Oh god, was that what that dream was about? It was blurry, but he could remember just enough...

He forcefully pushed those thoughts away. It was just a dream, nothing more. Being basked in the pale moonlight was doing wonders to calm him down. He reached up to remove his mask, but froze.

It might have been night, but...

There were a few of the pseudos clustered on the waterfront, their outlines visible from the glow of a few shoddy buildings. Talking, drinking, if the roars of soapy mirth were to be believed. From his position on one of the unlit, wooden docks, he was practically invisible.

But, not silent.

The group’s talk ceased at the splashing disturbance. Quiet mutterings came from them. With his eyes better adjusted to the dark, he could better make them out. Not sailors, per say, but… labourers, perhaps?

Well… that wasn’t good.

He quietly walked along the dock, onto the waterfront proper. The group saw him immediately. Their mumblings ceased.

Without even looking at them, he walked past. He hoped they didn’t notice how much he was shaking.

Act strong when weak… act strong when weak…

One of them shouted something at him, heckling him.

He didn’t spare a glance.

Keep walking…

From the corner of his eye, he saw one of them start forward.

And run!

...

He wished he could have taken off his ERA (it stuck uncomfortably to his skin from the sweat), but that simply wasn’t an option. He couldn’t even take off his mask, for fear of his face being seen. He could’ve passed, perhaps, but he couldn’t bring himself to take that risk. Of course, walking around wearing what amounted to a hazmat suit in the middle of a city could be considered much worse, but it at least hid his identity.

...Besides, he probably smelled terrible.

But still, it was night, and he was fairly sure he had passed out at that same time. 

How long had he been out exactly?

At least a full day, if he had to guess. at least, as he felt surprisingly rested. Unfortunately, the ache of his body, plus a near ravenous thirst and hunger may as well have nullified that rest. 

He took another deep breath. For now, he supposed it didn’t quite matter. Regardless of what transpired the previous evening, he was ok. Physically, maybe not. Mentally… up for debate…

...He was still alive, that was something, right?

Little thanks to those four.

Right, those four… He couldn’t help but feel a bit guilty about ditching them, but it was nothing personal. He just couldn’t trust any of them, whatever their intentions. Even if they resembled humans, he couldn’t trust that they thought like him. Well, more accurately, because they were an entirely different species. But he had already gone over that line of thought. Death, dismemberment, interrogation, etc.

...And this city was presumably filled with others like them. He had already had that run-in with the ones by the docks. As mind-bendingly mad as the idea was, as if he were in a dream, he knew it to be true. He had accepted the tragedy that had fallen on them, and the potential consequences it may have had on humanity, but this situation… this was something new entirely.

Two and a half weeks ago (from his perspective of time), he was living a normal, ordinary life, and now...

He was stuck in this future, humanity potentially dead (how else would this species exist?), and he was now stuck in, for all intents and purposes, a potentially unfriendly city populated by sapient non-humans. He couldn’t be quite sure, but if the scenario was reversed, as in a lone pseudo stuck in a human city, they would be hunted, detained, interrogated, then dissected if not useful. What said they wouldn’t do the same to him?

He may or may not have been freaking out a tad.

He could probably pass as one of them from a distance, but he had no chance up close. And who said they didn’t have any other identification methods? Some sixth sense?

He pushed down the fledgling doubt in his gut. Regardless, he still had a job to do!

…Even if he had no idea of how he was going to accomplish it.

An abandoned street greeted him, as cracked and worn looking as he felt. Several, short metal and concrete buildings lined the street, similar to those lining the dock from last night. Warehouses, presumably. If he didn’t know any better, he would have thought it a street from home. Their architectural sense must have been quite similar to human urban planners, or the style of utilitarianism and functionality was a constant amongst any sentient species.

...Where had he gone wrong in life to even be thinking these thoughts? His current position as a savior could have been held by anyone else, but noooooo, he had to be the one on these front lines. They could have picked anyone else.

...Well, maybe not. Out of all his colleagues, he probably was the youngest and hardiest, and if nothing else, had actually fired a gun in the past. Not that it was such an accomplishment to be the best at those activities in his chosen field; the bar was rather low. 

Seriously, while everyone was in their forties and fifties, he was in his late twenties. He was fairly certain they only kept him around to move heavy lab equipment. His degree was wasted.

But, they did choose him for this, and he was never one to disappoint. He had some hellish expectations to live up to, and… it was intimidating... 

It was a new world out there, literally speaking. Where to start, where to start…

Maybe he’d have a bout of inspiration while looking around, or if nothing else, a chance to familiarize himself with this city. Human or not, he’d probably be here for a while.

He was not looking forward to this...

But, as long as he was careful, this could work. Maybe...

On the sidewalks, he stuck as close as he could to the buildings, where the light from the streetlamps worked hardest to reach. Not that it helped much, but every solitary advantage he could get was desirable. Soon enough, he had quickly crossed a crossroads to the next. 

He wasn’t quite sure where he was going, but as foreboding as that thought was, there was a kind of charm to wandering to his heart’s directions.

One street, and then another. And another. He had long since left the waterside, and was deeper within the city itself. 

He had also begun seeing more of the pseudos out and about. Not too many, but enough to show that the city was actually populated, rather than a facade. At this hour, he only really ran into a few teenagers and a few punk looking pseudos, but they gave him a nervous, wide berth. 

It was still freaky to see them at all, but he couldn’t help but laugh a little at their skittish reactions. Lord knows he would have done the same if he were in their shoes.

Only in Florida...

Of course, he wasn’t one to ordinarily wander about in the dead of night. Tonight was special.

By then, he had wandered into what was presumably a residential section. Like the docks, it was older, faded, and industrial in its setup. Rather than individual houses, a few apartment complexes, red brick and mortar, rose up around him, and like their surroundings were quite derelict. Cheaper housing, if he had to guess. Perhaps even a “bad” section of town. 

If nothing else, the space wasn’t boxed in; rather carrying the feel of a more open area. Hell, they even had a few trees. Trees! It was good to see trees again.

Walking around in the night, once he managed to get over the trepidation of being seen by a few others, was rather peaceful. Even with the light pollution of the city, the moon was shining brilliantly down on him. Waxing, if he remembered the cycles properly. Even after all this destruction, upheaval, and insanity, the moon was still the same.

He leaned against a light post, eyes still fixed on the celestial body. As odd as it was to him, he took a strange solace in its presence. It had been too long since he had laid eyes on it. It took him back to better, more carefree nights before the Flood. Before Polaris…

If only the stars were visible. It would have completed the picture. Damn light pollution.

He couldn’t stare slack jawed at the moon forever, though. He had to keep moving; he was beginning to believe he might still be in the “bad part of town”.

~~~

With their combined jackpot of two hundred thousand coin, plus the extra from their previous shifts, the thick tension that had pervaded the apartment over the past three weeks had finally lifted. For once, they could all breathe easier. They had easily made this month’s rent and utility with plenty to spare.

Shell, the air had transmuted into one of hope. After the events of the previous night, on top of the sheer amount of shifts they’d worked over the past month, they had elected to take a few days off to rest. 

Today, not a team day out on Inkopolis, or a series of Turf Wars, but rather, a rare, lazy day, doing what they wished.

Not all good things last forever, however. The evening had come soon enough, and they had all returned to the apartment to settle in for the night.

Marius was passed out in the corner of the room, curled on a cheap, carpeted floor. Rio was bent over on the old, wooden table in their small dining/kitchen area, painting a kind of inane kaleidoscope of colors onto a sheet of thick paper. Vista was on the other end of the table, fiddling with a Squiffer, a small set of fine, steel tools off to her side. Celia lounged on a dingy couch they had gotten from a garage sale, asleep. A wall clock in their small kitchen area stated the time to be one in the morning.

It was a careful balance, one cultivated over a multitude of months and supported by their high spirits. Granted, the balance was easier when Marius and Celia were asleep. Without them, (mostly him), it was much quieter around the flat, which lent well to Rio and Vista’s activities

With a flourish, Rio put a final splatter of paint on her masterpiece, “And finished!” She declared proudly, albeit quietly. Waking the others would be quite the travesty.

Vista looked up from the squiffer, stifling a yawn, “Oh, good, good. Let’s take a look.” She got up from chair to glance over Rio’s shoulder, “Yeah, that’s very… good.” In truth, she had no idea what Rio meant to create; it was just a random blur of colors to her.

“Thanks! I really think it turned out well, if I do say so myself!” She paused, blinking her bleary eyes at Vista’s Squiffer, “What about your little project there?” She blinked again, trying to clear the tired fog from her mind.

Vista nodded, rubbing an eye, “It’s definitely been a-“ she stretched, yawning, “-enlightening thing to mess with.”

“Of course. Though why are you messing with it? Like, am I wrong in saying that you’ve always just experimented with rollers? Or am I just…” Her head fell into her hands. Rio got up from chair, leaving her picture out to dry.

“Y’know, I’m just… trying to, y’know, broaden my horizons,” Vista turned to put away the Squiffer for the night, but Rio stopped her, curiosity gleaming in her eyes, tiredness temporarily forgotten.

“Is this because of what happened last night?”

Vista couldn’t help but wince, “No, of course not.” 

A raised eyebrow from Rio, accented by a hand on a cocked hip, made her blush slightly, “...Don’t tell the others.”

She hadn’t been able to get the Stranger out of her head. Everything she had seen, both baffling, and a mystery to her trained eye. Not even Celia seemed to care anymore; rather, she had written off as another odd quirk of living in Inkopolis. 

Vista, on the other hand, felt like they had brushed against something significant and serious. As if they had seen something that they weren’t supposed to. The cusp of a conspiracy.

“Listen, “Rio started, “I know we were all freaked out and all, but really, I… think it’s not something we need to worry about.”

“That’s because you and Marius were all ‘chummy chummy’ with it!” She hissed, anger seeping into her voice, “Rio, I can’t just ignore this!” 

Just as quick as her anger came, it dissipated, “Look… ?” She swayed slightly before catching herself, “I… really don’t think I could explain this right now.” Her body sagged slightly, struggling to beat off the fatigue she felt.

“Vista… just… we’re here for you, ok?” Rio said, turning to head off to bed. She had almost left when Vista spoke up.

“I can’t go back. I can’t, Rio.”

“Oh,” Rio said, understanding entering her eyes. She turned back to Vista, giving her a small hug, “Don’t worry. We won’t let anyone take you back to the Valley.”

“Yeah… the Valley,” Vista muttered, leaning against Rio’s shoulder. The words rang hollow in her ears, but they were comforting, if she was honest. It wasn’t just that, but anything to keep Rio off her back, clawing at her secrets.

Rio soon let Vista out of her grasp. Vista had a small smile matching Rio’s.

“I’m just... going to bed now. Sleep well.” Rio said. She turned off the dim light in the room as she left for the second small room in their apartment, leaving Vista in the dark. Only the moonlight streaming through their solitary window let her see. 

She moved to close the blinds, and caught a glance onto the street under them. They really didn’t have much of a view, save for the adjacent building. They weren’t even too high up, only being on the third floor. As such, it gave her the perfect view of the street below. It really was a beautiful night out.

Wait… Was that…?

She shot back, stifling a shout of surprise. She nearly fell backwards, but managed to catch herself. 

Someone had been standing under a streetlight. And looking like... 

Him.

What was he doing here!?

...Was he here to silence them?

Need for sleep momentarily forgotten, she slowly approached the window once again. Peering out from just above the bottom frame to stay hidden, she was greeted by the sight of an empty street.

She blinked her eyes rapidly, rubbing them for good measure. 

Wha- Where did he go!?

Even after, he was still absent, as if he had never been there. Or… had he even been there in the first place?

...Shell, she was seeing things now. Maybe… Rio did have a point, after all.

While this Stranger certainly was a threat, maybe she should loosen up a tad. At least enough to the point where she wasn’t jumping at shadows.

Vista finally closed the blinds and made her way to her sleeping space in the other room with Rio. They hadn’t bothered with beds when they first moved in, rather using sleeping bags, and the practice ended up not being uprooted.

Vista drifted off to an uneasy sleep and equally uneasy dreams, shifting to and fro in her sleeping bag.

~~~

It felt like someone was following him.

He had long since moved away from those apartments, but for all intents and purposes, he hadn’t made any meaningful progress. Progress being, of course, anything that could help him.

He was walking through the presumed downtown of this city. Streets upon streets filled with restaurants and storefronts, so he could potentially find something to eat… well, steal something to eat. There were barely any pseudos around. He wasn’t about to go rooting through trash cans for scraps of food.

Yet.

At the current pace, he was just wandering, not much of a plan in mind. He… really didn’t have any idea of what to do.

Back on that island, he had been convinced this city held the answers to every problem that plagued him, but now that he was here… it was nothing more than a mirage. 

...On second thought, not a mirage. A mirage implied something that didn’t exist. This city very much did exist, but it was causing more problems than it solved. He was an outcast here, confined to the shadows, and if he were to be discovered… well, he had already gone over the likely outcomes.

And now he was being tailed. His first night, and he was already attracting enough attention to gain a stalker. Dammit!

His follower was one of the pseudos, obviously, but even from a distance, her slim, short build designated her as a female. He couldn’t make out many details (she was a good distance behind him), but that fact lent itself more to the torn, yellow hoodie she wore, concealing much of her face. For some inane reason, she was wearing shorts in this cold weather, not to mention carrying a bag of groceries. At two in the morning.

Who the hell would be up at this hour? And grocery shopping, no less. 

And wearing shorts in cold weather. Some constants never changed, it seemed.

He had held his composition long enough to walk around a full block, but she was still behind him. Maintaining that mid range distance… Like a coyote, stalking her prey before coming in to devour him. He always hated coyotes.

...Who was this person?

The mere knowledge filled him with an odd sort of trepidation. Sharp fear, balancing his mind between control and panic, but panic was winning. Tightness constricted his sternum, forcing his breath to come in short, flighty gasps. His empty stomach fluttered to and fro; no he was not ready for this why God why was he in this situation shitcomeupwithaplandammittohell-

His legs turned to jelly, dumping him onto his knees. A hand clutched his heart, which he swore he could feel through the layering of his suit. Incomprehensible gibberish ran through his mind, nothing he could rationalize, just sheer noise.

-Breaths, deep breaths…

Calm down…

It wasn’t working. His thoughts were only coming faster and faster, forcing their way through his weak resistance to them. They refused to stop, instead growing into a crescendo of terror. He was losing himself. He couldn’t do this, HE COULDN’T DO THI-

Something tapped his shoulder, enough for him to feel through his panic attack.

He jolted at the touch, instinctively shooting to his feet. Whoever touched him recoiled at the action, squeaking in surprise. He quickly spun around to confront his unknown assailant, only to find that she was the same who had been tailing him (Obviously, looking back), and that she had fallen on her rump. The tables had turned in the space of a second, effectively reversing their initial positions. Her hood had fallen off during the exchange. 

As a consequence, he finally was able to make out her face; tan, a full, black mask around her eyes. A lone bandaid was plastered under one eye. Short, yellow tentacles framed her face, bobbed at the sides. Her face held a cocktail of emotions; surprise, a bit of fear, but a steel of defiance behind it all, all enshrouded within anger.

Quietly, he bent down, and without breaking eye contact, snatched up her groceries. Two, full bags of succulent, delicious foo- 

The pseudo growled, causing him to quickly step back.They both stared at each other; the emotionless, intimidating countenance of his ERA mask against her angry, defiant snarl. A stalemate.

This one was a fighter.

It didn’t do much to assuage his fears, but in a sense, she had broken his panic. He had unintentionally gained the upper hand in this little scuffle, and it felt good, triumphant even. He leaned in a tad closer; even now, she was still scaring him a bit, but… he was intrigued.

This was, in a way, his first direct, close look at these pseudos. Even back on the ship, he didn’t have much of the chance (or a direct line of sight) to study them properly.

Hmm… a bit of a wider face, eyes… a bit larger than a human’s; were the pupils different? They had contracted slightly, some of the anger gone, replaced by a kind of confusion, and perhaps a bit of fear? The anger remained in full force, however.

He still wasn’t quite sure what they were, but they were definitely not natural. He was sure they were related to marine life somehow, but why the human shape then. Wh-

A dull glint near her waist caught his attention. Her hand was there, pointing a phone at him WAIT SHI-

His boot lashed out, smashing against her hand. She let out a yell of pain, fire in her eyes as she made to get to her feet. Her phone flew away, impacting against a nearby storefront a moment later.

He didn’t bother waiting to see what happened next. In a flash of desperation, his boot slammed down onto her foot. Hard. While she hopped and howled in pain, he vanished, running back into the night.

...

He slowed down, eventually. He wanted to keep running, keep pounding on the pavement to get away, but he couldn’t do it forever. Exhausting himself was death.

Only one thought was ran through his mind, over and over and over.

He needed to get out of this city. Get out and pray they didn’t follow him. 

This is probably going to be a longer Author's Notes.  
So...  
I have done it! Finally! A chapter that didn't take two full months to write! Yes!  
This was a rather strange cha

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is probably going to be a longer Author's Notes.
> 
> So...
> 
> I have done it! Finally! A chapter that didn't take two full months to write! Yes!
> 
> This was a rather strange chapter, in a sense. Finally, our protagonist made it to Inkopolis, but what now? It's definitely been a learning experience trying to put that feeling into words, and even now, I don't think I quite succeeded. But what can one do? Well, aside from spending another month editing it that ultimately proves to be fruitless. Not like that's ever happened... hehe.
> 
> I'm sorry.
> 
> In other news, it appears AncientDuelistDragon will be sticking around as a beta-reader/editor now. He's been a very big help getting this chapter ready, amongst other things. I must say, the last thing I was expecting when I started this story was to get one of those. Does this make me a real fanfiction writer now?
> 
> And on that note, this will probably be the last chapter for 2020. Originally, this story didn't have much of a plan when it was started, and at the moment, it doesn't have a well-constructed one. As such, I'll be taking some time to get that in order, as well as perform some edits on previous chapters to both fix the story/errors and just improve the quality.
> 
> Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this new chapter, and if not, I understand. It definitely is a bit janky in some sections, and even after some fixes, it still feels a bit strange. Or maybe that’s the point? I would love to hear what you think about it!
> 
> It's been a good ride so far, and I'm hoping you guys stick around for it! Thanks for reading, and see you next year!


	6. Chapter 6

“And you’re sure you got the coffee orders correct?”

Two inkling girls silently weaved through the early morning streets of Inkopolis. One of them, a short inkling with smaller yellow tentacles framing her face, clutched a small collection of sealed thermoses. She limped alongside her companion, a tall gal with long, cerulean tentacles swaying at her side. Both wore casual wear.

The shorter inkling stifled a yawn, nodding, “Of course. I double checked and everything!”

Her companion shook her head, “Of course you did. You said the same thing last time. We’re finding it hard to trust you on this.”

“Stuff a pineapple in it, Avanna! You don’t even drink this coffee! Don’t act all kinds of offended for her!”

Avanna rolled her eyes, “If you can’t even pay attention to their coffee orders, I can’t trust my back to you during our… ahem, _work_ ”

“Like you’ve ever helped me! Besides, I’m fine on my own.”

“Oh, right. Like when you were mugged last night.” She swore Avanna had a sense of smugness if her tone.

“Oh for the love of- I thought we agreed we wouldn’t talk about that!”

“I don’t need to say anything, your limp gives it away.”

“Line of Duty, Avanna!,” She shot back, “This isn’t the worst I’ve been.”

“But, you were still robbed. Alyssa, why were you even out shopping at two in the morning?”

“Late night study binge, I needed some snacks,” As if Avanna would accept that excuse.

Avanna sighed, “I know you’re taking those online classes, but really, you need to take care of yourself!”

“Cut me some slack, would you?” Alyssa said, venom in her tone. She hefted one of thermos, “This is what the coffee is for.”

“This is still unbefitting behavior of an agent, Four.” 

Alyssa rolled her eyes, “Whatever.”

“Marie won’t be happy,” Avanna replied.

That thought made Alyssa flinch. Fortunately for her, there was no one else around save for herself and Avanna.

“Of course, what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her,” Avanna sang, a smile creeping across her lips, “Maybe if you’re willing to change your ways, I might be merciful.”

Alyssa rolled her eyes, trying to hide to bluster through her fear, “Ok, ok, you win. Sheesh.”

“Good.”

They lapsed again into silence. Before too long, they had arrived in the plaza. In the early morning, almost no one was around. As such, no one noticed as they discreetly slipped into an inconspicuous grate.

…

Even now, after everything that had happened, Avanna still couldn’t quite believe this was her lot in life. To think that at the young age of fourteen, having just gained her humanoid form, she would be sucked into the dark underbelly of their world.

It was a tough and thankless job. And, occasionally, horrifying. Scarring in both mind and body.

Of course, it did have its perks. Never had she thought she would actually get to meet her idols. Much less finding out they led double lives as secret agents. Conspiracy, conspiracy.

Reality truly was stranger than fiction. She had seen the truth, and even if she wanted to, she couldn’t go back.

She and Four had emerged onto the other end of grate, both morphing back into their humanoid forms. Three grimaced, shielding her eyes from the sudden, bright light. While travelling via the sewers certainly was faster, it still took time to travel to their outpost in Octo Canyon.

Meeting at the Canyon itself was strange; usually, if they needed to hold a meeting, they would do so at the Sister’s apartment. Something had to be wrong if they were eschewing such a tradition.

The fact that it was only Marie who greeted them cemented that fact.

“There you two are,” She said, her voice it’s usual dour. She was leaning against the doorway of their small outpost. She had forgone her traditional grey kimono, and was instead wearing her actual agent gear. Another bad sign.

“Two,” Three stated impassively. She had grabbed Four by the wrist, who was still wincing, and dragged her to the shelter. Marie had already disappeared inside.

The shelter’s innards, as usual, were a cramped affair. Barely enough room for them to sit at a small table. The rest of the space stored equipment and weaponry. Utilitarian in function, nothing more. 

Marie was already seated at the table. Three and Four followed suit, Four depositing the coffee thermoses. Marie took one, taking a deep sip.

“...Mhm, not bad.”

Four nodded, eagerly chugging from her own thermos. Three, however, left hers untouched. The last thing she needed was to be jittery for whatever bad news was to come their way.

“Why have you called us?” Three asked. Marie held up a hand as she took another sip of her coffee. She brought it down, smacking her lips.

“Sorry. I was watching the Canyon all night.” 

_Oh dear._

“Two, what’s going on?” Four asked. It seemed she was finally realizing how odd things were.

Marie thought for a moment, before answering, “Nothing good.”

Four balked, “Nothing good? What’s that supposed to mean?”

Marie didn’t answer. Rather she pulled out several printed pictures from the folder, laying them on the table. Avanna and Alyssa silently stared at them.

_The ruined remains of a vehicle._

_A destroyed portable respawner._

_A heavily reinforced door set in rock, fire and smoking pouring from the aperture._

_Ravaged body armor, punctured in the chest._

_An obscured figure wreathed in flame._

Four looked up to Marie, brows furrowed, “What is this?”

Marie sighed, hands folded, “Three days ago, a previously unknown facility up in the mountains was discovered by a few locals. A special operations teams, heavily armed and armored, was sent to investigate. There were fears it was an Octarian base."

“And was it?” Four asked, “It looks like a fight went down.” She carefully brought the picture of the figure up to her eyes.

“There was,” Marie sighed, “But it wasn’t Octarians.”

“Then… what was it?” Three asked, already dreading the answer.  
  
“We don’t know,” Marie admitted, “Gramp’s sources don’t have any real idea of what happened. The facility was destroyed, collapsed, and most of the team’s equipment was unsalvageable. These are the pictures they took. What we could recover, at least.”

Three tepidly picked up the photo of the destroyed armor. _What could have done this?_

She couldn’t tear her focus away from it. From each burnt fringe, every torn contour, every punched hole...

Four was still staring at the picture she had picked up. The mysterious figure, flames flashing around them. “Who is this?”

Marie fell silent for a moment, before answering, “...We think this person is the one who killed them.”

Four blinked, “...You think? They were captured, right?”

Marie’s silence answered that.

Three finally tore her attention from the photo, “So, this person, or… persons, is loose?”

“Yes.”

Three couldn’t help but feel uneasy. An unknown facility discovered, the team sent to explore massacred… and the ones who did so were free. Were they Octarian agents? 

Or… was this something else entirely?

“Oh…” Four mumbled, “That… explains some things.”

Marie blinked, “What do you mean?”

“Um… I was…”  
  
“She was mugged last night,” Three interjected.

Marie barely had any time to process that information before Four shot back, “The person was wearing something like that one person is. Isn’t the same though.”

“...We’ll get someone on that,” Marie finally said, “For you two, we have something much more important.”

“And you don’t think we should be handling this?” Three protested, “What could be more important than capturing a murderer? Or, at the very least, an accomplice?”

“The ripple effects from that incident are what we’re concerned about,” Marie admitted, “Let me show you something.” She got up from the table, heading outside. Three and Four followed suit.

They joined Marie at the edge of their little island hideout. Far below them, the various districts of the canyon were buzzing with activity. Octarian troopers and Octolings loading into their UFOs, a few already departing from the Canyon. Three noted an Octostomp being ushered into a larger one, along with a few large light bulbs and zapfish.

“That’s what we’re worried about.”

“...Oh.” Four muttered, “What has them up in arms?”

“A new dome was discovered. One on the other side of Inkopolis.” Marie replied, a bit of worry breaking through her demeanor.

“A new dome? What’s that supposed to mean?” Four questioned, pacing, “Why would the Octarians build a dome there, then abandon it?” 

“Did you ever read the Sunken Scrolls?” Three asked, eyebrow raised, “Do you even know about the history behind them?”

“Um… no?” 

Three sighed, before saying, “The Octarians never built the domes. They were human structures originally.”

Marie nodded, adding, “That’s where the undiscovered facility comes in. Before being destroyed, we think it emitted a distress signal, of sorts.” She turned to look at Four.

“It in turn caused every Octarian Dome to release a response signal, if that makes sense. All the signals coming from the Canyon and Valley were quickly smothered, but one remained.”

Four nodded, “This new dome, right?” Marie nodded. “I’m still confused though. Wouldn’t that mean the discovered facility had something to do with humans?”

Marie nodded, “We’re thinking it was. Though without being able to examine it, we can’t know for sure.”

“If it was, perhaps it was best to be destroyed,” Three said, “We don’t need another homicidal AI or world ending catastrophe.”

“I agree,” Marie said, “Even if several unknown actors are loose.” She sighed, bringing a hand to her forehead, “I suspect they could shed light on this whole mess.”

“If they don’t kill you, that is.” Four shot in.

“I still think we should focus on them,” Three added.

“We’ll worry about that later,” Marie said, “For now, we’re sending you to survey the new dome. Unfortunately, the Octarians haven’t set up any connecting kettles yet, You’ll have to travel on foot.”

Two groans, but two nods.

“That’s everything. Good luck.” Marie turned back to the canyon, taking another sip of her coffee.

They were almost gone when a thought hit Three, “Will Eight be joining us?”

Marie shook her head, “Unfortunately, no. She’s still AWOL.”

“...I see. Thanks.”

And with that, they were gone.

Three couldn’t help but think back to the pictures of the destroyed armor. Whoever did that was still out there, still loose. Anyone willing to kill a strike team, and having the ability to do so… 

Combined with Four’s thought that they had actually been in Inkopolis… She dearly wished they could have been hunting them down instead. Make sure they didn’t kill anyone else.

~~~

To see the sunrise was truly a treat.

He was sheltered in a small copse of trees overlooking a small gorge. The City was still visible in the distance, but far enough to provide him a measure of comfort. And with no obvious paths leading to his little resting place, he felt comfortable enough to forsake the ERA and change back into his regular clothing, now that he was out in the wild. 

Minus the boots, of course. He was not about to go wandering about in dress shoes. Preferably, he wouldn’t be mucking about in what essentially amounted to dress clothing either, but it was much less constrictive than the ERA. 

Wasn’t like he had to worry about dress codes now, anyways. He was going to be wearing his shirt untucked, and there weren't any HR complaints to worry about, nor anyone to stop him. Truly, a positive.

That was right. Focus on the positives, so that way, he wouldn’t _lose his mind._

He had taken the opportunity to rest a bit, as well as break into the groceries he had stolen. It may have been _immoral_ to take them, but what could he say? He was starving, and she started it. While he normally wasn’t one to use the phrase “the ends justify the means”, it certainly did apply here. What were a few lost groceries and some bruises to the salvation of his species?

Of course, it was only (pseudo) junk food and soda, but it was better than nothing. Not like he was worried about any dieting. After all, he needed every calorie he could get. It being surprisingly similar to human junk food was an unexpected plus. Silver linings.

Like the “groceries”, Hitching a ride with one of an unsuspecting pseudo could have been viewed as immoral as well, but he was out of options on that one. He could have walked god knows how long, or he could have just hopped into the bed of a stopped truck, and…

_Well..._

He got to be lucky sometimes, right?

The signal he found could be considered another lucky break too.

He wished he held the same luck with trying to decipher its origin.

For the past several hours, he had been hunched over, scribbling equations into the loose dirt. 

His brows were furrowed while he muttered various numbers under his breath. He could barely remember the formulas he was using, and with so many equations, he was bound to get a few numbers wrong, which would only impede his progress. 

He actually had a calculator with him, originally, but like many of the delicate electronics he had possessed, it had been destroyed during that spat on that island. Which meant he was having to do all of the calculations by hand.

It was… _infuriating._

But necessary. _If_ he wanted to find the origin of that signal. And he had all the time he needed to decipher its secrets.

If it held secrets at all. 

Earlier, he had been fiddling with his radio, trying to pick up anything he could find. There had been a lot of pseudo garbage clogging most of the frequencies, no doubt broadcasting from their city. News stations, music stations, radio talk shows, they meant nothing to him. Always that same, damnable bubbly gibberish. 

Granted, he spent a bit longer listening to the music than he would have liked to admit. He couldn’t understand any of the lyrics, but they certainly had good taste. No classical pieces, though. Mostly synth and chiptunes. Quite hip and funky, if he was to judge.

Back to the signal.

It was near the high end of the radio frequency, almost brushing up against the microwave spectrum where he found it. An encrypted signal, judging from the seemingly garbage noise behind its public messages. Three short beeps, followed by three long beeps, then three short beeps once again.

_SOS_

He couldn’t fathom any of the pseudos using it, or even knowing what it meant. What were the odds they had developed the exact same morse code, and used the exact same signal? He felt confident in saying it was of human origin. Polaris had awakened him because it heard a distress signal, and he was the response. Perhaps this was the same.

There was no living hope he could get past its various encryptions, so he was doing the next best action; triangulating the signal.

It had taken more than a fair amount of walking to get the measurements he needed, but without the ERA bearing down on him, it wasn’t too bad. If nothing else, it got plenty of kinks out of his muscles.

And of course, more math.

_Blegh._

What he wouldn’t have given for an internet connection.

~~~

Considering this new discovered dome wasn’t connected to the Octarian’s kettle network, getting there was a bit of a chore.

The fact that the area outside of Inkopolis was criminally undeveloped didn’t help. Not that Three blamed anyone for that. It didn’t have much use outside of housing acres of trees, hills, and gullies. Not hilly enough to be unlivable, but the land only permitted the occasional house. The fact that a few roads existed here was miraculous enough.

Three was bundled into the backseat, Four sitting in the passenger’s seat of a small, blue car driving down one of those miracle roads. Not their car, of course. They weren’t _that_ rich. Or knew how to drive, for that matter.

But Callie and Marie were. While Marie stood watch at the Canyon, Callie was chauffeuring them. Though personally, Three wished Marie was driving instead.

Because then, she wouldn’t have to deal with this _sickening_ pop music.

Four was sitting in the passenger's seat, singing with Callie to some inane, catchy dribble. Three might’ve liked it if she wasn’t in her current mood. While Alyssa and Callie rode the waves of the song, she was a stone stuck in the bottom of the current.

_How could they be so upbeat?_

There was a dangerous lunatic (or lunatics) on the loose, and if Four was to be believed, they had been in Inkopolis. Surrounded by thousands of innocents. They had killed a highly skilled strike team permanently. They could brute force past a respawner’s defenses.

Why inspect a new dome when there was a very real threat in Inkopolis? She and Four could always raze the dome later. Why didn’t they see it that way?

_Could they at least turn off that damned music?_

She wanted to shout, to yell, but the response was strangled by her discipline.

_Patience… Think…_

Idly, she wondered what that stranger, the one who mugged Four, was doing…

_What nefarious plot were they up to?_

~~~

“Hm…”

Experimentally, he tossed another rock into the open air. 

And just like the many others he had thrown previously, the trajectory skewed when it hit a certain patch of space. The natural curve of the rock temporarily suspended, before plummeting once more to the Earth. Hardly noticeable if he wasn’t looking for any discrepancies.

He took a few steps to what he gauged to be the edge of the anomalous area, a new rock in hand. Gently, he reached his hand in. If he was correct about his suspicions…

The rock was released from his grasp.

But instead of falling, it remained where it had been released, spinning slightly.

“What in the…?”

Somehow… impossibly, this patch of space, this “anomaly”, was without gravity... 

_How!?_

He had long since gotten to the predicted signal location, only to be enraptured by this oddity. Gravity couldn’t just be turned off like this. As far as he knew, but this…

He sighed, a hand coming to his forehead.

...He didn’t have time for this. This was nothing but another thing to add to the pile of current mysteries that he would invariably never solve. An interesting detour, nothing more. Another piece of evidence for his “reality was breaking down” hypothesis.

_Though…_

He took a tepid step into the anomaly. Even if he was a grown adult with the burden of responsibility, he still had that inner-child urging him onward. Trying a bit of zero gravity wouldn’t hurt, right?

…

“OH GOD GET ME DOWN DOWN DOWN DO-”

_Thud!_

“Bad idea…”

~~~

On one final, high note, Four and Callie finished their duet. Before they could start on another song, Three shot forward, turning off the radio.

Words were already coming out of her mouth when she did so, “We need to take this seriously. This isn’t a road trip.”

Callie pouted, “Three, this is an easy mission! Just get in, look around, get out. Nothing too dangerous!” She moved to turn the radio back on, but Three stopped her hand.

“C’mon Ava,” Four pouted, “We don’t get out much, let us have our fun!”

Three rolled her eyes, but didn’t relent, “How much do we really know, though? For all we know, we could be walking into a trap.”

“You’re beginning to sound like Gramps. Take a chill pill!” Callie protested, looking back to her, “We’re certainly being care-” 

“TREE!” Four shouted, jerking Callie from her conversation. She swerved back onto the road proper, having almost driven off.

“That’s what I mean,” Three said, trying to ignore the sudden shock of fear, “You two are taking this whole situation way too casually!”

Callie was about to say something, but what cut off by Four, “Three, calm down! I know you’re a bit more high strung than the rest of us, but really, you’re taking it a bit too far!”

Three huffed, sitting back, trying to wrestle her emotions back under wraps, “This whole situation is fishy, is what I’m saying,” she muttered.

The car lapsed into silence.

...

The car finally pulled off to the side of the well beaten road, the afternoon sun beating overhead. The stop nudged Three from a small catnap she had fallen into.

“We’re walking from here,” Callie explained, turning off the car, “The dome is deeper within the woods.”

Four blanched, “Do we really need to?” She looked nervously at the trees, “I don’t like that thought.”

Callie sighed, but nodded, “Neither do I, but we don’t have much of a choice.” She walked to the trunk of the car, opening it. 

Callie pulled out her uniform from the trunk, “Let’s suit up.”

While putting on her uniform, Three glanced into the thicket. How long had it been since she had last been hiking? 

Too long, by her reckoning. She still had that instinctive twinge of fear. She supposed it was only natural. Some primordial part of her recognizing it wasn’t their spot in the world. 

Too enclosing, too… empty. It always set her on edge.

There was always something wrong, something twisted about this countryside. She supposed it was partly why so few people lived out how.

Places like Camp Triggerfish were one thing. These eerie, desolate forests were another thing altogether.

She put on her headgear with a sigh. The sooner they were done here, the better. Then she could get back to what mattered; bringing that murderer to justice.

~~~

It was about time he found it.

He had spent several hours combing the predicted area to no avail. It was about a two square kilometer area, and he had severely underestimated how much space it actually contained. He knew his calculations were flawed, but not by _this_ much. 

Running into several more of those gravitational anomalies (quite literally) didn’t help.

It had taken him performing the same calculation _again_ to find the origin within the area. Even then, it was largely chance when he stumbled upon it.

A small, rusty tower blended in extraordinarily well with the foliage, but he had the luck to find it. A small thing, about his height. It was covered in small dishes, and a few small lights were lit up on it. 

A small thrill went through his chest. _He had found it!_

He was fairly certain it was the transmitter. How it had stood this long, he wasn’t sure, but then again, how had he survived so long in stasis? The materials must have been of their more “high-quality” stock.

But the real question was; what else was here? This transmitter tower couldn’t be the only thing here, right? It needed to be connected to a computer, a power source. And why else would there be a (presumably) human transmitting device in the middle of these hilly woods?

Looking closer at the tower didn’t reveal much. A few shielded wires ran along one leg and dipped into the dirt. A bit of digging revealed a concrete base underneath. Not surprising.

No doubt there was more here, but how to find it…

If there was anything to find. 

He sighed. _Time to take more shots in the dark..._

…

It was around nightfall when he had a revelation. As it turned out, the shielded wires attached to the tower weren’t secured in the concrete. Rather, they were buried, and not too deep.

Following their direction had led him to a particularly nasty thicket, growing on a steep slope. They were covering an indenture, and laid within was a heavy duty, rusty door, outlined in steel.

_Yes!_

_...Though, how was he going to get it open?_

There weren't any obvious handles or buttons on its frame. Clearly, it wasn’t meant to be opened willy-nilly. A good sign, and if it was magnetically locked, another good sign, though a pain. He withdrew a magnetic slug from his bag and tepidly tossed it at the door. It almost hit, but an invisible force threw it back. 

So, magnetically locked.

Great. _Just. Great._

But he hadn’t come all this way to be turned away by a locked door.

Still, if it was locked magnetically, he didn’t have many options.

He stood for a minute, thinking.

...

_...It was worth a shot._

He sat his backpack on the ground, fishing out some stuff; his ERA and two mag rifle batteries, both charged with precious, precious energy. And, more or less, dangerously unstable. It took large amounts of energy to fire a single gauss round, and each battery could fire about twenty apiece.

He remembered all the testing behind these particular types. All the explosions, the severe collateral damage, the setback and months of work to make them both cost-effective and stable. They had achieved the former, but the latter… not so much. Compacting so much energy into a completely stable form simply was impossible with their current technology. They could store it, but it was about as safe as a box of dynamite.

And more or less, he was about to turn two of them into a makeshift bomb.

_Easier said than done._

Well, too easy, if he didn’t care about accidentally blowing himself up

He rooted through the scrap that were his broken gadgets, withdrawing two long, choice wires. The main issue with the batteries’ stability partially came from the lack of energy inhibitions. Each one was topped off with almost its maximum energy capacity, and going over it, even just a little had proven to be catastrophic. 

And with how much energy each one held, his box of dynamite allegory wasn’t too far off. It took plenty of power to fire a single gauss slug, after all.

And, if he did this correctly, he was about to dump another battery’s worth of energy into one.

It was nearing night, and with how vacant the area was, he was confident an explosion would go uninvestigated for some time. Still, he slipped his ERA back on, just in case someone was indeed around. What he would do if that were the case was… he had no idea. Give up?

Of course, and for while he carried this out. The last thing he needed was to electrocute himself.

He walked to the door, batteries and wires in hand. A pit of nervousness had opened up in his stomach, making him shake. He was essentially taking a dull stick and thwacking it over the hindquarters of a bear. There were so many ways this could end up, most of them bad, but he didn’t have a choice.

Even now, the fact itself that he was resorting to cracking a door open with an IED was worrying. The place had power, yet there hadn’t been any attempt to respond to him. He had tried, too; every signal he could send out, in fact. All in vain.

Something was wrong here. And yet, there was still hope.

He had no choice but to hope. He had no real choice in any of this.

He squatted down at the door’s base, placing the two batteries close together. Beforehand, he had wrapped a few spare wires to act as a kind of bind. It was messy, but it would be good enough. 

_What he would have given for some duct tape..._

Now... the scary part. He took several deep breaths. 

_He could do this._

_He. Could. Do. This._

With shaking hands, he carefully wound the wires around the positive and negative terminals of the first battery. It took him a while, considering he didn’t have any proper clamps, as well as having to work with gloves, but he eventually got it. Positive, positive, other terminal.

Everything was set. With trembling hands, he held up the negative wire, the last to be set. When he set it to a piece of freestanding metal, there would be no turning back. During the trials, it usually took about nine seconds on average for the battery to spontaneously combust.

So, set the wire. Run like hell. Pray it breaks through.

Simple in theory, terrifying in execution.

He glanced back to a fallen log a good forty meters away, his pack resting behind it. A reasonable distance from the explosion. Considering how unreliable his luck was, even that might not have been enough. 

_Ok…_

_Go time._

He jammed the wire against the door, hooking it on one of the indentations. A flurry of sparks flew from the connection.

_His cue!_

He ran, tearing across the ground. Terror propelled him forward, mind focused solely on getting to the log. 

_Five._

_Six._

_Seven._

_Eight._

He vaulted over the log, diving behind it. 

…

…

He shifted slightly, slowly peering up over the log. 

_Why hadn’t it explo-_

A shrieking explosion of fire and energy obscured the door, sending stone and metal shrapnel everywhere. One piece shot straight at him, hitting him square in the head. His helmet absorbed the worst of it, but sent him back under the log.

He lay there, dazed. Vaguely, one hand went to caress the affected spot.

_Ow…_

_That… ow… another one to add to the collection…_

Gingerly, he raised himself up. It didn’t hit nearly enough to cause a concussion, but he would be _damned_ if it didn’t smart.

Seeing what was left of the explosion raised his spirits, though.

A nice, jagged hole had been blown through the metal, more than enough to crawl through. It’s surroundings, on the other hand, had been pulverized. Cracked stone caked the area, and dust much more so. Even in the twilight, it was easy enough to see. Almost like snow.

A small smile crept up on his face. It wasn’t a breaching charge or anything fancy, but it certainly did the trick.

He screamed in triumph, devolving into laughter. He couldn’t help it. He _needed_ to release all of his pent up worry, transfigured into relief.

Today had its ups and downs, but…

Another glance was sent the way of the breached door.

...This was a nice way to end it.

~~~

“Come on, Avanna, sit with us!”

Three shot a baleful eye at Callie. She had set up a small campfire, and was warming herself by it. Four had joined her, and was sitting up against a log.

Three simply shook her head. She herself was a few meters from the rest, in the trees. Her Splattershot was at the ready. Secretly, she was teetering with weariness, but her pride refused to let it show.

She should’ve been resting, but a few anxious butterflies fluttered in her stomach. Earlier, they had found where the Octarian UFOs were heading. A large pile of boulders had been cleared away in a particularly deep gulch, revealing a substantial entrance, one a Great Octoweapon wouldn’t have issue getting through.

And considering it was the only entrance, they would have quite the fight getting in, never mind what lay within. The Octarians were already entrenched.

A night-time assault seemed best. Slip in, slip out, then go from there. Which led back to Callie’s damnable campfire.

In the twilight, it wasn’t so bad, but when night truly settled, it would stand out like a beacon. They were far enough away, but it still played her nerves. Even with her playing guard, it set her on edge.

“ _~-o sing our campfire song!~_ ”

And the singing. She was really beginning to hate that _song._

“ _~Our C A M P F I R E S O N G Song-~_ ”

_Oh, sure, wasn’t like they were on a secret mission, or were, y’know, AGENTS._

“ _~And if you don’t think that we can sing it faster than you’re wrong~_ ”

Callie looked right at her.

“ _~It will just help, if you sing, along~ "_

If it wasn’t for the fact they were miles away from the nearest respawner, Three would’ve splatted her right then and there. Hierarchy of power be damned.

She had _earned_ her instincts, her experience. She was Agent Three, renowned amongst her few comrades, feared by the Octarian race. Surely, the others would allow her to throw that weight around from time to time.

Anything to stop that _sickening, cheerful melody._

If they were going to sing, at least sing something good. Not some stupid campfire song.

“Alright, double time!” Callie cheered. Three groaned, covering her ears.

“ _~Let’s gather ‘round the campfire and sing our-_ ”

A shriek of an explosion tore through the dusk, sending Callie and Four scrambling for their weapons. Three shot up, nerves immediately alight. Already, the echoes of the explosion were fading.

They stood in a state of shock, weapons ready to fire at anything.

Slowly, the tension faded from the group as no threat presented itself.

“W-what was that?” Callie hissed, all joy and bubbliness gone from tone.

“Explosion,” Three responded simply, “Judging from what I heard, it came from,” She pointed into the forest, “That way.”

Four groaned, but nodded, “I think so too?”

Three rolled her eyes, but continued, “Probably caused by an Octarian, or something. Four, come with me. Callie, hold down the base.”

“Three,” Callie said, taking a tone a parent would to a disobedient child, “I’m the one in charge here.”

Three nodded, not breaking eye contact.

“...But, I think your intuition is correct.”

She mentally gave herself a pat on the back. _Small victories._

“Stay in touch by radio,” Callie said, donning her headgear. Four nodded, doing the same. Three, who was already wearing her gear, nodded as well.

“Come on Four,” Three said, “Stay on your toes.”

Soon enough, Three and Four were stalking through the forest. With the night creeping up on them, they both brought out flashlights. Nothing too powerful, but enough to see, and quick enough to turn off.

Even with the light and Four, she couldn’t help but feel a bit creeped out. Cod, she really did hate this forest. There was almost nothing here, but what it could be hiding was what kept her up at night. They had already found out about some Octarian bunker or dome here, what was to be said about it hiding anything else? Could that murderer be here, stalking them right now?

She looked behind her, shining her flashlight. Inky darkness, shadowy trees. Nothing.

She shivered, reorienting herself. Four gave her an odd glance, but kept on track.

...

“I… think we should return,” Three said, finally stopping, “We’ll never be able to find anything right now.”

Four nodded, shifting on her feet. “I like that idea.” She turned back, footfalls crunching.

Three paused. 

Crunching? It was late summer, there weren’t any leaves on the ground. A few sticks, maybe?

She shone her light down. Chunks, powdered rock. 

All around them.

“Four!” She hollered. Before Four could turn to glare at her, she added, “I think this is where it happened.”

“What makes you say that?” Four asked. Three simply gestured to the ground. 

“...Oh.”

They began shining their flashlights around, looking for anything else. A lot more powdered rock, and progressively larger chunks. 

_What happened here?_

By chance, a stray beam of light reflected off metal. Four yelped in surprise, getting Three’s attention.

Another beam shot at the metal. Slowly, both approached. 

More light lit up the structure. 

A metal door, set in cracked rock. A large hole had been punched through the metal.

“Oh… dear,” Three mumbled.

Four took a step back, “Should I radio Callie?”

Three nodded.

~~~

_Something was definitely wrong here._

He hadn’t wasted any time after cracking the door open. He had crawled through, and for the past half hour had been walking nonstop. Behind the door had been an earthy passage, carved out of stone and dirt. Dirty, unconstructed, barely supported and wired. 

Unlit, of course. The use of his flashlight easily rectified that.

It was… surprisingly eerie to walk through. The light of his flashlight barely made a dent in the darkness. The echoing of his steps was the only sound. If it wasn’t for the knowledge this was his only real lead, he would have turned tail as soon as he saw the passage. It had been a gradual downward slope the whole way.

Ugh… as much as he was loathe to think it, this was all reminding him too much of Polaris. 

_How long was this tunnel?_

He wasn’t sure how long his nerves would last, otherwise.

…

Finally, _mercifully_ , the tunnel terminated with another door, broken. A small, actually built room made of steel and concrete stood behind it. And even better, it was lit! 

Was it depressing that a lit room was enough to alight him with joy? Yes.

Did he care? No.

He shook his head, bringing himself back. For now…

He took stock. The room was surprisingly barren, only holding cleaning supplies on a sturdy shelf.

...A closet?

But then, why would the tunnel behind him even exist? Was it an emergency escape, or something? It was more recent, he was sure about that? An emergency expansion?

He looked to the other door in cramped space, an actual, honest wooden door. It was held on actual hinges. Hinges!

He wanted to cry. It was so simple, yet _so beautiful._

Quietly, he opened the door, hinges creaking.

_Simply divine._ It had been too long since he had heard that familiar sound.

The wooden door had opened into a spacious concrete hall, similar fluorescent lights and wooden doors lining the walls. Spartan, but undeniably comfortable.

Yet, empty. His footsteps echoed uncomfortably loud as he walked down the hall. It was… actually kinda creepy. An uncomfortable, dull din permeating the space didn’t help. Like he was inside some great machine.

He knocked on a few doors, but didn’t receive any kind of response. All of them were locked as well. Unsurprising, yet unhelpful.

_Where was everyone?_

He had blown through one of their doors to the outside. Any rational group would’ve been monitoring those doors, yet no one had come to check. They would’ve already been here if that were the case. One didn’t lock a door with magnets, only to leave it unmonitored. 

He had begun exploring the tunnel with the assumption he would be able to rest in here tonight (sleep was already calling to him), but it looked like he would be staying up a bit later...

Shaking his head, he reached the end of the short hall.

Another door, this one composed of an alloy, and a bit thicker than the rest. He opened it, and-

The din immediately grew to a roar of machinery and engine. He stepped back in surprise, but shook his head and went through.

...Massive couldn’t begin to describe it. The door had opened directly onto a catwalk suspended high, _dizzyingly_ high over an abyss. A… dome?

The rounded ceiling stretched high above him, the walls curved, circumference unmeasurable. Catwalks crisscrossed over the void and along the walls. A comically large light bulb had been hung from the highest point, lighting the whole area up in it’s _sickening, yellow glow._

He took a shaky breath, head swimming, legs weak. He fell to a knee, hands clutching the railing. His eyes were scrunched shut.

On instinct, he crawled back to the door, getting back into the _secure, stable_ hallway.

He sat for a moment, getting his bearings back. Eventually, he returned to his feet, ill feelings squashed. From the door, he properly observed the space.

...Same as before. Hexagonal supports keeping the spherical structure stable. The hall he was in probably wasn’t in the dome itself, just outside of it. Trying to comprehend the geometry of it all hurt his mind.

_This place felt familiar, but where had he seen it before…_

Carefully, he stepped back onto the catwalk. _Mind over matter, mind over matter…_

He screwed up the courage to look downward. The floor, stretching at least a hundred meters below him, was a wreck. Messes of twisted metal, scrap, and dirt. Several portions of the floor were a simple metal mesh over impenetrable darkness, while many large pipes lined the bottom most walls.

And… a veritable army was gathered. Figures, odd… blobs, purple coloring; he couldn’t make it all out from his perch. More figures walked along the lower catwalks.

Their forms were off...

…

_No…_

_No._

_No!_

He carefully leaned back from the walkway rail, lower lip bitten.

He couldn’t have been the only one to have found the signal, and… they had beaten him here.

...

_This explained it._

They… 

...They must have rounded up all the humans, for whatever reason. That’s why there hadn’t been any reaction to his arrival.

Yes! That’s what happened!

And, all he had to do was rescue them!

Yes! And after that, everything could be resolved!

…

_But… he had to get past these intruders first._   
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is good to be back!
> 
> Allow me to apologize for the three month gap between chapters, but believe me, I was busy during that interlude. The previous chapters have been refined and updated, as well as the story plan being mostly plotted out. Going forward, we now have a map and a proper base to build with. AncientDragonDuelist was definitely a great help getting this all set up.
> 
> Anyways, some things to address. The rewritten chapters are mostly the same, just some details and scenes changed or tweaked. Nothing major, but some information (such as our lovable human having stolen Four’s groceries) has been added. Feel free to read these rewritten sections if you want, or not if you don’t. I would recommend doing so, personally, but it isn’t a requirement.
> 
> Once again, I apologize for this chapter taking so long to come out! But, now things should be back on track schedule wise. And with what is to come next, I think the wait will have been worth it.
> 
> As always, thanks for reading and giving your kind words! They’re always a great inspiration! I hope you’ve enjoyed this chapter, and please, have a good day! 


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